The Saga of the Next Generation
by Red Tale
Summary: Told from the perspective of the children of the TMNT as they overcome a menace to their family. It took about three years to finish this story. Now that's a Saga. Feel free to let me know what you think of my life's work here.
1. Christopher

"Keeya!", Donatello yelled, swinging at me with his bo, and following up with a high kick, both of which I easily and silently dodged. I spun around behind him and managed to land a blow to the back of his shell. My sword clashed with his bo and he turned to face me.  
  
He was getting better. So were William and JB, who battled each other on the opposite side of the room. Especially JB, I thought as I countered Donatello's attacks and followed through with some of my own. Poor kid is almost too young to be training with us, but too old to train with the others. I was worried when Master Sheno moved him up into our group, but it's been working out okay. As the training intensifies, and I'm able to work up a sweat, I think everything's working out okay.  
  
This feels so right. No one else feels it, I know. They go through the motions, but only under discipline. Even Donatello, who shows the next best level of commitment, and has the most reason to want to become ninja, even he doesn't show much motivation, and William views it more as a required sport, like baseball. He does his best for it because it's expected of him, but there's not the same personal satisfaction in his eyes as, say, when he won the state-wide science competition a couple months ago. Together him and Donatello make formable opponents, but not on a ninja level.  
  
JB has been improving lately, showing more interest in his nun chucks. I was surprised he had chosen them, seeing how he feels about his father. He's going through a lot of ups and downs though, and who knows where his training will be at in the next year.  
  
Actually, my little cousin Rowdie shows potential. I need to spend more time with him, dedicate some sessions for him personally to keep that spark alive. But it's so hard to find time for anything when I have to look after all eleven cousins and a sister.  
  
And here come the worse two right now.  
  
"You're late", Master Sheno told them, not even bothering to look their way. He didn't have a lot of respect for Julian and Romea.  
  
"Give us a break", Julian replied.  
  
"We still have school, you know", Romea said, narrowing her eyes at me. They were jealous I had graduated earlier this year, and was not being pressured to go to college. My path was to become a ninja, like my father. Shortly I would be joining him in the search for my uncle's assassin.  
  
"We go to the same school you do", Donatello retorted, "And we were back half and hour ago."  
  
"Yeah, that's cause you don't have any friends, dweeb", Julian snapped.  
  
I sighed. They were already being obnoxious. It was pointless training with them anymore, but Dad insisted it be done this way. He had trained together with all his brothers and felt very strongly we stay together no matter what, and my uncle's murder had only intensified that feeling.  
  
Master Sheno ignored the bickering and instead worked with JB on his nun chucks, leaving us to set up our own practices with each other. I usually took Julian, because I could easiest handle his outbursts. Romea was just as bad, but didn't loose her temper. William took her. Donatello performed some katas by himself, until JB joined him using his new technique.  
  
This unsteady alliance for practice would last about an hour, and then usually break apart. Sometimes it was Donatello and William having to do homework or something, and usually JB would follow them with the same excuse. Julian and Romea never stayed longer than an hour, they didn't have the patience for it, and for them it was a concession, one of the limits they agreed to. I guess I had to give them some credit, they didn't go drinking, they didn't deal drugs, they didn't run away from home, and they did show up to practice everyday even though they clearly hated it. When we were younger, they had much more excitement, hoping to be able to fight bad guys like our dads, but that has since dissipated. Actually, I think our uncle's murder changed them a lot in that way, I think they're scared to continue training.  
  
I lingered after they had all left, even master Sheno, perfecting my katas. I wanted to be able to impress Dad by how much I had improved in the past year since he had last seen me. Uncle Mike had once remarked how much like Dad I was in my dedication to ninjitzu.  
  
I hope to be like him in points of honor too. I hope to be the one to track down my uncle's murderer, and avenge him. That's my goal in life. After that, maybe I'll go to college. 


	2. JB

Saga of the Next Generation By Red Turtle  
  
AN: Now I know you all are reading this. That's good.  
  
I felt I should say something before Mikey fans read this chapter, but I don't want to give anything away. Basically, Mike isn't doing so well in the future at this point, but I can 95% guarantee that if you keep reading this story, it will become one of your favorite Mikey stories ever, so don't be discouraged by what's going on here now.  
  
I guess I should put a word in for Donatello fans too. Yeah, Donatello doesn't do very well either right now, but don't worry.  
  
And for everyone else, well, Raph and Leo are doing great, right now. Maybe you all should be worried.  
  
Now we have JB's part of the story:  
  
I can't seem to put them down. I just keep holding them in my hands, fingering the metal links and running my hands over the wooden ends and examining how beautiful it all is. I could steal some of Romea's scented oil, and I could rub that on the wood, and then it would be even better. Plus it would smell good. Nothing too girly, but cinnamon would work.  
  
I must have spent twenty minutes on them, and this is after practice. I might as well have stayed with Christopher, but I couldn't appreciate them like I can here by myself. I figured, if I'm going to seriously take them up I need to really love them. I want to be better at them than my Dad was.  
  
Finally, I have to relinquish them to their shelf. I have homework. I have to construct a family tree. It's due tomorrow, and it's going to be a huge project.  
  
I had three weeks to do this. I've been putting it off. Well, I did all the preliminary research, like how to do the format, the coloring, and the accompanying essay on Family Trees. I just haven't done the part where I have to write everyone down and connect them to me.  
  
You see, I hate thinking about my family. I don't hate them, exactly, but I hate everything about them. I hate that there's so many, that's its so complicated, that we're so different, that my father and uncles had such difficulties. And most of all, I hate what happened to my one uncle.  
  
My uncle was murdered in a very brutal way. I saw it happen. I was with William at the time; he was home sick with the flu. I don't remember why I was home; I think there was a report card day or something. We were watching the award ceremonies on TV, William was barely awake but it was this big deal so we were all watching it, me, him, Anna and Marie, and their mother (who is not William's mother, so complicated). We were all watching, it was live, big ceremony, and then he was shot. And not once, like in a movie, but a lot. I don't how many times. And the guy got away with it, uncle Leo was there and he still got away. And as I saw this happening before me, as I realized my uncle was dead, my first thought was...why couldn't it have been my father? Why did that have to happen to William not me?  
  
And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that, I really wanted it to happen to my father. It wasn't fair, Donatello and William and their siblings loved their dad, and I don't love mine. And now in addition to everything else, I hated him for remaining alive.  
  
Why do I hate him? Teenage angst, I suppose, but I felt this way for as long as I can remember. Since I learned my name was Jellybean. That's when I first lost respect for him, because what kind of man names his kid Jellybean? And my younger brother got Michelob. Sure, I got two cousins named Chicken and Pie, but that was their mom, and their names seemed to come from love, where as me and Mickey, our names seemed to come from whatever was lying on the floor when he woke up and we were born.  
  
I don't see him much. Some years ago, uncle Raph tried to talk to me about it. He told me all the great things my dad had done when they were younger, that he was his best friend and he loved him and it pained him the way me and Mickey felt. Uncle Raph rarely talks about things like that, so I know it was important to him, and I respect him, but I couldn't change the way I felt. Sometimes I think I can see what uncle Raph is talking about, sometimes I see a glint of something heroic, but it never lasts. I have never known my father to be anything but an alcoholic looser.  
  
So, all this makes it hard to do a family tree. There are some kids in my class I can relate to, there's a Chinese girl with black parents and a white sister, and one kid with six separate step-brothers, and another who somehow is his own uncle (he explained it to me once but I forgot). Most of the kids at school don't have fathers. And we're not the only mutant family, theirs about ten others, but none in my class.  
  
I start with the easy part of the tree, grandfather Splinter. Having a rat at the head of the tree really adds to the whole oddness of the family. He's the only rat in it. My father and uncles are turtles. Most of our mothers are human; some are turtles, and one fox.  
  
I do uncle Raph, his fox wife Nantia, Romea, Julian and Rowdie next. Romea and Julian, I don't care for them much personally but their parents put a lot of thought into their names. See, it's the reverse of Romeo and Juliet, because uncle Raph and his wife love each other. I wish I had that kind of thought into my name. Rowdie, well, it's an okay name, but I think they could have done better.  
  
Now I lay out Uncle Leo, his wife, Christopher and Katlin. Christopher and Katlin are good, normal names. Leo's wife is a mutant turtle but a different species than he is, she's a pancake tortoise. Her name is named Ronique. If I was a girl, I would like that name.  
  
I spend a lot of time on this part of the family. We're supposed to use pictures but that would be too hard for me, and there aren't any pictures of grandfather Splinter, so I have to draw him anyway. Might as well draw everyone else to make it uniform. I'm a good artist. Uncle Raph said that was like my Dad, that he drew pictures and he wrote poetry. He even showed me some drawings.  
  
There are tons of pictures of my uncle Don, but I will never use them. I let all his kids keep the pictures. I don't even want to look at them. But I don't want to draw him either. I color the square in black. The teacher knows what happened, she better not give me points off.  
  
I manage to do all of uncle Don's kids. Donatello and William, I like their names. They're twins, but they don't have dumb rhyming names. Donatello is named after uncle Don, of course, but he always insists we call him Donatello, we can't shorten it. William's that way to; always call him William, not Will or Willy or anything like that. Their identical, so I make them look the same in the drawings. Their mother is hard, since I never met her. She was human, blond, and wore glasses and she writes poems to them sometimes. She broke up with uncle Don before I was born.  
  
Then theirs Chicken and Pie, the cousins with the names almost as bad as me and Mickey. Their identical too. No one knows why, uncle Don always had twins but no one else did (Romea and Julian don't count, they were manufactured, which I didn't put in the family tree but everyone can see that). Their Mom is different than Donatello's and William's and I barely remember her. She was really nice, she was loud, she was part turtle, but mostly human, like three fourths. She left Uncle Don too, not sure why.  
  
Last are Anna and Marie, and their mother Tatiana who still lives with us and she's human. I don't really like Anna and Marie, they're just babies so it's wrong not to like them, but I don't. I don't think they should be here. They're kind of like Romea and Julian, they're manufactured.  
  
I eat dinner and do everything I can do before I have to put in my Dad, me and my brother. I can't bring myself to draw him, so I put a red square instead. I don't know my mother. I don't know Mickey's either. I'm only four years older than Mickey, one day he just showed up to live with us. So I put blank squares where they should be. I'm assuming their human, me and Mickey look like we're part human. Mostly we look like turtles, but our skin textures different, our shells and eyes are different. Drawing me I can do okay, just wish it didn't have to be under my Dad. And I can draw Mickey, I like him okay. He likes baseball a lot right now, so I draw him with a baseball bat.  
  
There, it's done. Now I'm going to play with my nun chucks some more before going to bed. Some practice might release all this tension this homework built up. My uncles told me a lot of stories about how they wish they could have gone to school, but it's not all its cracked up to be.  
  
To be continued... 


	3. Chicken

The next generation By Red Turtle  
  
Hey! (slams hand into fist) I got you all, don't I! You are all hooked on this, I know, even if you don't review, but the reviews sure helped. And this story is just beginning. Each kid gets to say something, except Anna and Marie because they are too young. Then some new characters going to come in and they're all going to add to it too. So you're going to get all these perspectives, and your going to get this very elaborate story at the same time. Enjoy.  
  
I'm trying to make sure everyone has a distinct personality that fits their age and all. Sometimes there will be incorrect grammar, especially with this child; this is not because I don't know grammar myself. Now we're going to hear from Chicken:  
  
I know the boys are following us, getting ready to jump us. I don't know how much of my senses are from ninja training as much as just being a ten year old boy who gets beat on a lot.  
  
Finally they reveal themselves, three more jump out in front of us. We're not even out of the school yard yet.  
  
"Get ready to run, Chicken!" a particularly tough looking twelve year old cracks at me.  
  
My brother gets: "We're going to cream you, Pie!"  
  
Yeah, clever.  
  
This happens a lot to us; everyone in the world has to beat up on kids named Chicken and Pie. Our mother should have just called us Hitme and Kickme.  
  
Chicken. Our mother said it was from a book she read, The Bluest Eyes, and that it just mentioned that there were twins named Chicken and Pie, and when she had us she decided we would be her tribute to it. Geez, Ma, why'd you have to do that to me? Pie got off easy, he can tell people that it's that 3.14 number, and it sounds impressive. Me, I can't do shit with Chicken. I can't even get a nick name out of it; Chick is probably a lot worse.  
  
With my name, I get into a lot of fights. Kids can't resist fucking with someone named Chicken, hell, if it wasn't my own name I would probably be fucking with somebody who had it. So it's good I have a twin, it helps even things up. And if me and Pie aren't enough, we have our cousin Rowdie, and true to his name he's a fighter. When the situation gets really rough, our girl cousin Katlin will step in and kick their asses. I don't mind having a little girl come to my defense, she's something fierce. Rowdie and Katlin are nine, one year under me and Pie.  
  
We have two more cousins in our school with us, Mickey and JB. Mickey is in our little age group, he's nine, but he never hangs out with us and he never fights, except for in practice where it's required. Somebody picked on him once, but me and Pie put a stop to that. He likes to do things like puzzles and solitary stuff like that. The only group thing he plays is Baseball, he loves him some Baseball. Has all the cards, watches every game and everything. JB is thirteen, he's in eighth grade, and he doesn't bother with any of us 'littleuns' at all, unless were all getting our asses kicked, then he might step in.  
  
We're all training to be good fighters. All of us is all my brothers and cousins. Only my youngest sisters don't train, but they're only a year old. Its part of what life dealt to us. Whether we want to be ninjas or not, we all train. My Dad and uncles told me stories about when they were younger, how they all trained because their lives depended on it. I wonder what that must have been like, they lived underground, had no hope of relating to humans or going to school or anything, the only thing they could do was be ninjas. And my Dad didn't actually want to be a ninja, he wanted to study. He told me once that Grandpa Splinter wouldn't let him observe a solar eclipse because it occurred during their regular practice session. He trained with just a bo, because he didn't want to ever actually draw blood on anyone.  
  
My oldest brother Donatello chose a bo too, to memorialize him. I think life dealt that he has to memorialize him, because he's named after him. His twin William decided on knives, he throws them and does cool stuff like that. Mickey uses a bo, but I think it's because it's like a baseball bat, not because he feels pacifist. Katlin and JB took to nun chucks.  
  
Me and Pie, together we decided on swords. It's a bit cliché; actually it's a bit lazy. We aren't really interested in ninjitzu beyond beating up obnoxious class mates, and we don't intend to pursue it anymore than necessary. Actually, we push the fights as much as we can, thinking that maybe if we're deemed too vicious they'll stop making us go to lessons.  
  
Rowdie, on the other hand, he takes it seriously. He's got the sais, the most wicked looking weapons I ever saw and also the choice of his father. He comes to defend us when we need it, but he never fights when not necessary. And I can tell the way Master Sheno treats him compared to the rest of us, he has more respect for Rowdie. Rowdie will stay even longer than he needs to on practice, if he doesn't have homework he'll stay all night.  
  
Not me and Pie, nope. We got tons better things to do. We practice an hour, we do homework, and then boom, we do what ever we want. We got video games to play, firecrackers to explode, fights to get into, siblings and cousins to torment, we even got girlfriends. We don't do much with them right now, but we would hang out with them before we spent all night training.  
  
Our girlfriends are really cool. They're both bears, mines a red Panda, Pies is a black bear. There are about ten mutant families in the school besides ours, and of those seven are bears. I don't know, I think bears are cute, cuter than humans. The other families are one cat and two lizards. Most people don't realize Rowdie is in our family, because he is a fox, and we're all turtles.  
  
This is a lot different than when my parents were my age. One is they just had the four of them, two is they didn't have any weird sissy names, and three is back then didn't no mutants go to school. Back then we were all divided by species, course there were a lot less of us too. I guess its kind of like the way humans split up by race, like a really long time ago, they wouldn't all go to school together, or at all. Then as soon as they normalized that we came along and changed everything again. I wonder what my kids will have to go through, I can't imagine.  
  
But, here and now, me and Pie are facing five human boys, and three bears, most quite a bit older than we are. I know one of the bears is my girlfriend's brother, and he don't like me and Pie dating bears. I don't know what the other kids' problems are; probably think it will be fun, some we've fought before so they should know better.  
  
Simultaneously we spin around, jumping up and kicking two right behind us. We've studied this ninja shit enough to do some cool, flashy moves like that, and we have the added benefit of being twins, we probably look really cool moving in sync like that. We each immediately turn back around, me taking out another kid on my left with a punch to the face that he didn't block quickly enough. I learned long ago to hit hard. Then you're supposed to fade away with out a trace, but we haven't gotten that part down yet.  
  
That started the melee. The others jumped on us, trying to pummel us to the ground. They seemed awfully slow, we can dodge their blows easily, and parry with just our fists. But I only hold out on the disciplined ninja training for about a minute, than I give in to the rush of just out and out hitting. I imagine Pie does the same. We've got three left at this point, and one of the bears unleashes his claws and swipes at me.  
  
Before I can call him out for unfair claw usage (after all, me and Pie don't bring our swords to school), Rowdie is in front of me, a red furry blur of action, and he's got claws of his own and fur to protect him from the bear. Man, I love our cousin.  
  
The next minute is so hyped with adrenalin that none of us can remember what happened, but we all ended up in front of the principles office. The sobering half-hour of yelling after that didn't help our memories either.  
  
But it ended all the same as it always does. Me, Rowdie and Pie have some bruises, but they got the worst of it. At least three of those other kids got black eyes (me and Pie aim for the eyes), and one got a twisted ankle from Pie tripping him up. We all get written up, and one of the maids comes to get us. See, despite starting off life with a father, three uncles, and mothers and step mothers and aunts, plus relatives scattered all over the world, and older brothers and cousins, and our ninja trainer, we are actually quite alone in terms of adult supervision.  
  
Me and Pie's mother left out years ago, our father is dead, two of our uncles and their wives work around the world and rarely visit, the other uncle is wasted and doesn't live with us, and his children's mommas don't stay with us, Donatello and Williams mother skipped out, and the relatives that are in other parts of the world don't bother with us. Our last step mother, Tatiana, she stays with us but is mostly consumed with caring for Anna and Marie; she's not much of a mom to the rest of us. Master Sheno is there for training us, he doesn't do any childcare. And our older brothers and cousins got other things to do than pick us up from school and lecture us.  
  
That's just another one of those things that life dealt us. We all get advantages and disadvantages when we're born, and ours isn't the worse life. As we are led off home, I try to imagine how our father and uncles grew up, with their father and each other so close, and they couldn't even leave to go anywhere, they couldn't ride in cars or have maids, they had to live in this little place, share rooms and toys...  
  
I start writing a list of pros and cons, their childhood versus ours. Pie is very interested, it becomes an occupation to do together in the den, where we are grounded until further notice (we aren't sent to our rooms because they were determined to be too much fun, the den has no window, no games, no TV, boring books, ect).  
  
Our father and uncles' childhood wins by two points.  
  
To be continued with Rowdie. 


	4. Rowdie

Rowdie By Red Turtle  
  
Hi! Seriously, all of you, these are the best reviews I have ever gotten on a story. I appreciate knowing how you all are looking at this and what you're getting out of the relationships. I'm trying very hard to illustrate this, and I see I am succeeding.  
  
Oh, in case any one finds out, I learned that Red Pandas aren't really like bears, their more like raccoons, but I'm going to leave Chickens story the way it is. And I'll try to work in Ken as his nickname; I can't believe I never thought of that.  
  
Anyway, this is Rowdies' POV:  
  
R-O-W-D-I-E! That's the way we spell Rowdie!  
  
My cousins Chicken and Pie made up that chant to teach me to spell my name when I was little and every once in a while it pops into my head. Especially when I'm bored, like being kept in the kitchen for lack of a better punishment for the fight my cousins and I got into. I wish my Dad was here for me to talk to, or Uncle Leo. More than that, I wish Uncle Don was here.  
  
To this day, I don't understand why fate denied me the opportunity to save my Uncle. Uncle Don's death was deeper than the loss of a father figure; it was a slap in the face of my convictions. As long as I can remember, I've believed I was destined for something great. I pay attention to everything going on around me, so I will know when that purpose arrives. Yet I missed his assassination, I wasn't even conscious it had happened until my whole family were called out of class, and informed by the principle of our school. I refused to believe it until the actual funeral. If I wasn't born to stop his murder, then why am I here?  
  
Why wasn't I given a premonition, one of those vague notions something will go wrong, that I could have quietly shared with him, and convinced him not to go? Why didn't I have terrifying visions that woke me screaming the night before; visions that I couldn't recall but would effectively convey that something was terribly wrong? Why did I go to school and sit in class that day, blissfully unaware of the atrocity? I didn't as much as shiver at the time he was killed.  
  
I should have been there at the ceremony. That was my calling, I am sure. But I was born too late; I was too young to attend. Had I been older, at least twelve, I might have had the opportunity, and I would have been ever vigilant, so that when those shots rang out, I would have seen immediately where the shooter was, and cornered him myself, avenging his death. Sometimes I go with scenario two, which is that I would have sat at the front row, and been so quick in reflex and so willing to fulfill my destiny that I would have jumped in front of my uncle as the shots came, sacrificing myself so that he could live. I don't mind this scenario, even at such a young age I am willing to die for others. It's only that it would make the rest of my family sad that I would regret it.  
  
To add insult to injury, I am too young to partake in the quest to avenge him. My older brother and sister are old enough, but they won't do it. They don't have the discipline or the desire. They are sixteen, but I outmatch them in ninjitzu skill, and points of honor. By the time I reach sixteen, it's very likely my uncle's death will have been avenged and all I'll be able to do is spit on Saber Khan's grave.  
  
Saber Khan. That's how observant I am, I overheard Uncle Leo, Ronique, and my father and mother talking about him. I'm sure the others don't know the identity of the assassin, except maybe Christopher because he's old enough and honorable enough to participate. I don't know why it's a secret, unless it's to keep us from worrying, or to keep him from knowing they know. Their conversation discussed how rich this guy was, and how elusive, and how brutal. They did not discuss why he saw fit to commit this act on our family.  
  
I tried to find him on my own, I typed his name in our master computer to see what records there were of him, and I learned something very interesting, which is that he has no connection to our family, at least not publicly. There's no deep feud between us, no death threats. I thought maybe he hated us because we were mutants, but no, he is a mutant too. He is some kind of lion-like creature, definitely not human. I wonder what my parents know of him, and what clues tie him to the murder.  
  
Oh that I was old enough to do all this. My life seems so empty. I imagine my future had I just the one chance to save my uncle, and it is great, it feels so right. I want that future more than anything. I still look for signs of my proper fate, even things like defending Chicken and Pie. I love my cousins, but I must be destined for something greater than keeping them from getting beat up in grade school. In ten years or so that shit won't even matter.  
  
Well, I shall keep improving my ninjitzu, and something will come along eventually. 


	5. Katlin

Katlin By: Red Turtle  
  
I hate everything.  
  
No, I love everything. What I hate is the actions that make me this way.  
  
I hate this way.  
  
I have so much potential for love. I want to be happy. I can be so nice and loving, I can be dedicated and smart, and I can be everything I'm supposed to be if people would let me.  
  
But no. Instead I am treated as a monster, yelled at, teased. I have no sister to turn too, there aren't any female turtles my age at all in this world, and all my cousins my age are boys. I have one female cousin, who is way older than me, and she's a fox, and she doesn't like me. I have two little girl turtle cousins, but they are just over a year old and can give me no companionship. They can't even do anything cute yet, like dress up or anything.  
  
I want to be closure to someone. I have an older brother, but he is so much older than me and he doesn't know anything about being a girl. I wish I had a twin like all of uncle Dons kids, but then I think it would be even worse if I did and she didn't play with me. I try to be friends to my cousins, but it's not the same because they're boys. They don't play with me like they do each other, or tell me things like they tell each other. Actually, its just Chicken, Pie and Rowdie that hang out with each other. Mickey stays alone, and I always thought that would mean he and I could be friends, but he's just not interested in hanging out with me unless it involves baseball. Everything else he does is solitary, and I'll mess it up if I try to play with it, like his rubix cube or his upside down puzzles or his number games.  
  
I have so much family. I have all the family in the world, but it does me no good. My Mother and Father are always away, especially since the evil that killed my uncle. If my mother were here I could talk to her, she could tell me what its like to be a girl turtle, but she is off doing great things, and I can't ask her back home to serve me, it would be selfish.  
  
I am not selfish, yet I am accused of that often. I don't want much, but I get nothing, and when I say one little word about it, like that I miss Mommy or that I am scared of the evil or that the girls at school are mean, I am told not to whine.  
  
The girls at school are so horrid. They have all their human dolls and bear dolls, and there are mutant fox dolls now and cat dolls, but not turtles. This is because turtles aren't cute. We have no hair, we have no fur, we don't have ears for earrings, we don't have fluffy tails, our eyes are simple and black, and our shells prevent us from wearing cute things like tank tops, which would be pointless anyway since we don't have boobs. Not even Mom has boobs.  
  
I want boobs, goddamn it. I want to be cute. I want to be the little girl that everyone loves, because I love everyone.  
  
Two years ago everyone loved me. When my uncle died, the whole school sent me flowers and cards, and I got more flowers and money and toys from people around the world who I didn't even know. We all got stuff like that, because we were related to him and everyone in the world felt bad for what happened. But to me it was special, I thought everyone finally realized what a good girl I was and I held onto all those cards and flowers.  
  
Last month I threw all out. Everyone at school has forgotten me now; everyone has forgotten how beautiful I am. All the flowers withered, the cards faded, and so did the sympathy. Now it is worse than when he was alive, because at least he sometimes paid attention to me, and at least Mom and Dad were around a few months out of the year. Now they have been away almost entirely since the evil happened. When they come back they want to talk to Chris, because he's bigger and stronger than I am and he's going to go fight the evil too.  
  
Then I will have no one here.  
  
I hate everything. 


	6. Mickey

Hey, guys. Mickey is going to go on about some strange metaphysical stuff here. Rest assured that his speculations are not totally correct. However, there is one thing that he knows that you all should know too. There is character death in this story. A lot. Its not all angst ridden, and its not even all characters you know, and it ends up very powerfully and well, even with the losses. But its still there and it will probably affect characters you have grown to like. Since I've never done the story in this format, I wasn't sure how to present this in a way that would evolve the story and not make anyone cry, if anyone is prone to do that I am sorry. If it makes you all feel better, when I read Romeo and Juliet I cried for two or three days, not because of Romeo and Juliet dying, because everyone knew already they were going to die. I cried because of what happened to Mercucio, who I had started to like and had no idea he died.  
  
Anyway, this parts starts to get into that, although no one actually dies for a little bit still, and as I said he is not totally correct about who does and doesn't.  
  
And I'm not sure if this math will translate well, but hopefully you all will get the point.  
  
7 2 (X) + 1 = 15 X 13 and 15 -16 - -2 = (14) 10 % of 140 = 14 +7 *6 14 +2 7 + 7 + 6 - 10 + 4 = 14 i + i + 13 = 14  
fourteen fourteen  
14  
  
14 14 14 14 14 14 14 14 14 14 14 14 14 14 14 14 14 14 14 14  
  
Fourteen.  
  
That's how many of us are going to die.  
  
I can't believe it. But I'm sure. I have done all the math. Every time, the answer is fourteen.  
  
I wonder when this will happen. How? Math can't tell me all that. It can only tell me how many.  
  
Will I be one of them? Well, lets see, there are thirteen of us children in the house, plus Anna and Maries Mom, then we have uncle Raph, uncle Leo, and their wives, and my Dad. I have two more brothers and a sister somewhere, and then there are at least four more cousins around from uncle Don.  
  
Hmm.14 out of 26.that gives me less than fifty% odds surviving. That's not too good.  
  
Do the mothers of the other kids count as part of this family? That brings it up to thirty, no thirty two, I forget me and JB have mothers too, technically.  
  
Strangely I am not too alarmed about this. Well, what can I do? None of my cousins would believe me except maybe Katlin and she would freak out. My brother would have to sit down and talk to me about why that wasn't going to happen. Christopher would assure me of his ninja skills and that his parents won't let anything happen.  
  
And I don't dare mention it to any of uncle Dons kids. That would just be cruel, seeing as what happened to their Dad. I wonder if he's included in this number. I wonder if that's a part of it. They never did catch the guy that killed him, so suppose he comes back and kills more of us? Fourteen more of us? Uncle Leo and uncle Raph assure me at every visit that he can't harm us, but he obviously can. He harmed the hell out of uncle Don, didn't he?  
  
If he did come back, which of us would he kill? I bet he would kill all of uncle Dons kids, because he started with their Dad and maybe it's a personal thing. And if he's doing that, he'll kill Tatiana too. But that's only seven. No, wait, there's those other four kids of Dons, that brings it up to eleven. But still there are three more.I guess that can be the mothers then. That makes the math work out, but it doesn't feel right. I don't think that's how it goes down. I bet he just kills all the turtles. He doesn't like turtles; I bet that's his deal. That means Rowdie and Romea make it, and all the humans and non-turtle mothers.  
  
I have got to stop thinking about this.  
  
My math calculations are all over the room. I even started on the walls. I better just get the fuck out of here.  
  
Grabbing my bo, I decide to go see Chris and discuss ninjitzu tactics. He's always ready to do that. That way, if I am one of the ones to go, at least I can get some good licks in. Then I change my mind, go back and get my baseball bat. I won't get good enough to really change things, so I might as well enjoy my time here with my cousins and brother. Might as well play some baseball. I like baseball because it is better organized than any other game. It is all calculated, everyone's moves in a diamond, not like soccer or football where everyone runs around yelling. And all the geometry and physics keep me well entertained.  
  
Is math fate? 


	7. Pie

Pie - Saga of Next Generation By: Red Turtle  
  
Hey guys. Man, these reviews are at least as good as my story. I have all my favorite reviewers so far, except Splinter (hint). I love reading them. I won't answer too many questions as they will come out through the course of the story, but it helps to see what I need to make sure I address.  
  
I will lay this out clearly: Two years ago Donatello was killed while attending an international awards ceremony in his honor. He was shot to death as the whole thing was broadcast live, and a good portion of the world was watching so many people knew what happened. Besides being a tragedy among the turtle family it was a hugely publicized lost to the scientific world. Leonardo was there but did not catch the killer and looks for him still, hence he and Raph and their wives are often away on this quest, leaving the children in the care of maids and security guards. Why he was killed and by who remain a mystery and the sympathies of many of the world was extended to the remaining turtle family.  
  
I did want to explain that there is time passing between the different perspectives, although I myself am vague on how much. Sometimes with in hours and sometimes a day or so, nothing more than that. Just to make it clearer for people reading.  
  
This is going to be a long part, and should help deepen a lot of the relationship issues and give a clearer view of the family set up.  
  
This will be the last sort of carefree chapter. All this was just to set up the whole family so people understood what was happening, as I said I haven't done this in a written form. I'm glad it worked out so well :) Anyway, the next part, starting with Romea, will be the sort of heart of the story, lots of things will happen, including death and such, and the original TMNT themselves will come into play.  
  
Enjoy Pies perspective. He has better grammar than Chicken (but not perfect).  
  
Wow.  
  
This family tree JB put together is really something. It's a piece of art, I think. Currently it hangs on the refrigerator where we can all admire it, the teachers A marks the left top corner.  
  
It's not just his drawing skill that makes this thing art, although he's good. It's the psychology behind it. I want to go to college, take a course on psycho-analyzation, come back and analyze this thing. I bet it has tremendous potential for realization of all kinds of emotions.  
  
Take, for example, his part of the tree. He did his father in a red square. What the hell does that mean? His and Mickey's moms are blank, and Mickey is holding a baseball bat. I know this is because Mickey likes baseball, but none of the rest of us is depictured with anything. It seems weird, because it almost looks like Mickey is threatening their dad, the red square.  
  
Then there's my Dad, which I found myself, staring at. My dad is a black square. He couldn't even bear to draw him. What an intense feeling that is, so much represented in this little black square. Wonder what the teacher thought when she saw that.  
  
In a rare moment, no one else is in the kitchen with me. It is late, almost bedtime. Chicken is getting ready to sleep. We have separate rooms and we don't sleep together or anything. Chicken and I don't really do much together except fight other kids, and I only fight because he does. I think I am the more thoughtful of the set, I suppose as cliché as it is I got the brains and he got the brawn, so much as there is brawn between us.  
  
I follow the impulse to trace the little black square that represents my Dad with my finger. I just wanted to touch it, maybe see if I could understand better what was going through JB's mind when he drew it. Did he try to draw him and failed, or did he just go with the black square to represent the loss? I wonder what it must have been like for him to witness the murder, right there on TV. He, William and Donatello all saw it happen. Donatello got the worst, of course, because he was actually on the stage. JB and William just saw it on TV, but still...I can't imagine. Sometimes, I realize that, since it was an international award ceremony, and it was being shown live, then somewhere there's a video of it. Somebody has a copy somewhere and I almost...I would like to see it. I just want to know what everyone saw, what they all went through, and it's not describable.  
  
...  
  
I don't mind read with Chicken or anything, but I know he doesn't feel the same way I do. I don't even know how much he thinks about Dad. He was shocked of course, and he bawled his eyes out at the funeral, but he just doesn't seem to feel it as deeply as I do. I think I was closure to Dad, I think maybe out of all of us, even his namesake Donatello.  
  
Staring at the square, I remember the last real conversation I had with Dad. It was two days before he was killed, the next mourning he and Donatello had left for Korea for the ceremony and of course I never got to talk to him again. Coincidently, we talked about our family. Sometimes I would come over to his office before bedtime and he would tell me stuff, and this particular night I was curious about how our family worked, like how we were all different, mixed with humans and foxes and stuff.  
  
So he was telling me some things that were very interesting especially now that I'm older and can appreciate them more. I'm going to write a paper about all of it, its so cool, the genetics and everything, like how the turtle part of us is dominant over the human parts, and how Katlin and Christopher are even more turtle than we are, so that they actually hatched from eggs instead of being born. Cool stuff like that interests me.  
  
In the course of this he told me about my other cousins from Uncle Mike, a set of triplets whose mother is half human, half bird. The bird combination worked out really well; apparently, they are basically mutant turtles like us with wings, beaks, talons and some feathers over their bodies. That really got my imagination going.  
  
Then he told me about my other brothers and sisters, whom I hadn't even heard about before. They are two years younger than me and Chicken, and their mother is a dragon. How cool is that? He showed me a picture, back then I was eight so they were six. The four of them posed together, one of them flying above the others. They had wings and claws, and they had shells like us and walked on two legs like us, but their heads were like dragons. They had tails, too, and spikes on their legs. He said that they didn't live with us because dragons raise themselves in their own land, which is over in Asia.  
  
I say, "If their over in Asia, how did you meet their mom?"  
  
"When I was traveling with Simon. We were doing research on the plants and animals over there."  
  
Simon is a friend of my Dads, another mutant turtle. He's still around, but he doesn't live with us. He's not as out of it as uncle Mike, but he's...what is it, autistic. He's really smart, but not very social. He took Dad's death really hard. Dad was the only one he ever hung out with. He didn't have any kids; I guess the dragon lady didn't think he was as cute as my Dad.  
  
"So this was two years ago that you met her?" I asked Dad, as a started formulating the time line in my head.  
  
"Yeah", he replied, and he must have liked her cause just talking about her he got a sort of glow.  
  
"But Dad", I say, "Weren't you still married to our mom?"  
  
I don't usually make statements like that, and I had never commented on the abandonment of our mother before, but I was curious. They used to love each other, I see pictures of that, and well, obviously me and Chicken are here, but for all I remember of them was her arguing with him, and finally she up and left. I knew that there had been Donatello and Williams's mom before her, and she left. And I knew that now there was Tatiana. I didn't want Tatiana to leave to, so I was trying to, as much as my young age allowed, figure out the problem and solve it. Maybe if he didn't have kids with other women while he was married, then our mothers wouldn't leave him.  
  
I must have hit on the mark; he got as embarrassed as I ever saw him. That's one of the things I loved about him, actually, was that uncle Leo and uncle Raph were always looking so bad ass and powerful, and Dad was just friendly and seemed so much more, I guess human. Course, maybe that's not fair since I don't know Uncle Leo and uncle Raph as well. Still, I always remember fondly the way he almost blushed when I said that, in so much as turtles can blush.  
  
"I, uh, well...listen, Pie, I'll have to explain it to you when you're older."  
  
"Shouldn't you explain it to me now?" I demanded.  
  
"I can't, son. It involves things you have to be older to understand. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you", he assured me with a hug.  
  
I had started crying then because I missed my Mom, and now two years later I started crying because I missed him. I blinked the tears back; I don't want anyone seeing me cry in the kitchen. I still had my hand on the family tree, and occupied my mind with whether I should go ahead and add the other members of the family to it. I wonder why JB didn't even bother to put his bird-siblings on it, he must know about them even if they never met.  
  
"Hey Pie", Chicken interrupted the revelry suddenly. I hadn't notice him come into the kitchen.  
  
"Yeah?" I snap, trying to hide the tears even though its okay for Chicken to know.  
  
I turned to look at him, and the very vision made my body tingle uncomfortably. He looked very worried and concerned. He saw my hand on our Dad's square and didn't speak. I quickly removed it.  
  
"What's up?" I prompted him.  
  
"I think you should sleep in my room tonight. Rowdie and Mickey are up there already. Something's wrong with Mickey, I think we should all stay together, okay?"  
  
I wanted to be alone right now in the worst way, the tears were burning my eyes as he spoke, but a request like this had to be honored. Mickey had been really upset earlier because none of us could play baseball with him.  
  
"Is he still upset about the baseball?" I inquired.  
  
"Its worse...", Chicken stopped and looked around, checking the immediate area for listeners, then leaned in closure, "Listen, I went in his room to check on him, and he had all these crazy numbers all over, and he broke down and told me that he thinks were all going to die. He's in there bawling about it, man. And he's really scared, that's why he wanted to play with us. So I took him into my bed, and I got Rowdie to comfort him a while and I think it'd be good if we all sleep together tonight."  
  
"Why don't you tell JB?"  
  
"What's JB going to do? I don't know, were closure to him, he's in our little set, you know? Besides, I don't want everyone flipping out over this, I'm sure he'll be fine in the mourning. Maybe we can teach him some new math equations tonight or something."  
  
I almost laughed at the idea of Chicken trying to teach math to Mickey, but the seriousness of the situation quashed it before it escaped. I took a long drink of water instead.  
  
"I'll be up there in a minute", I told him.  
  
Still he lingered.  
  
"Are you okay?" He finally asked.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You think maybe we're all flipping out because of...because of the anniversary?"  
  
He stammered to say this, and it sounded like an abomination of the word. "Anniversary" is supposed to mark happy occasions, you have wedding anniversaries, not Dad's murder anniversaries. It made me flinch.  
  
"Are you flipping out?", I asked him.  
  
"No, but...if you all do, I'm gonna too."  
  
"I'm not flipping out. I just miss him sometimes."  
  
A strange quiet followed.  
  
"Okay", he accepted my answer and headed upstairs.  
  
I sighed and started to follow.  
  
I hope I'm not flipping out. 


	8. Romea

Next Generation - Romea - by Red Turtle  
  
Just to clarify, the characters of Nadia, Romea and Rowdie are inspired by the fox people depicted in the Archie comic, which I enjoyed reading. With in that, Raphael used to date a fox named Ninjara, and there was speculation about the lifetimes of the two, and that the romance would not last because Ninjara would die much sooner than Raph. All this obviously impacted me and plays a role in the story.  
  
Also, I haven't specified the time period this is all taking place. It will become clearer through Romea's telling that we are about thirty or forty years or so in the future. I liked the concept that the turtles didn't have to have children all right away, and having the theory that they would live longer lives allowed them more flexibility in waiting for a world that would accept their children first, so they were all at least in their forties before settling down and having kids. However, its pretty hard to have an accurate portrayal of the future, their are so many possibilities that I could never get into with in this story, so other than the prevalence of mutants in the world I try to keep aspects of social life, technology, culture, art, language, ect. pretty much as they are now, even though that's pretty unlikely in thirty or more years.  
  
I continue to be impressed by the reviews this has spawned.  
  
And now for the heart of the story:  
  
This night is so strange.  
  
The littleuns are all scared about something. They haven't talked about it but their fear courses through me as a low current of electricity, leaving my fur in a slight state of edginess.  
  
Thank god Mom and Dad will come home tomorrow. And Uncle Leo and Aunt Ronique. I miss them so much.  
  
But tonight I must be content with the company of the maids and my siblings. I think I'm closure to the maids sometimes. At least were both mammals.  
  
Even my own twin brother is a reptile. A turtle, like all the rest but me, Rowdie and Mom, and Rowdie has turtle DNA in him even if he doesn't look it. And besides that, Julian and the others are all mutants, where as Mom and I are descended from an ancient line of fox-people. We have a whole culture, history and everything, although we only became connected with the human (and turtle) world in the last twenty years.  
  
Still more isolation in that I am female. It is quite heavy on the boy side, the fact that most of the mothers left us doesn't help either. I feel separated from the other siblings by it, all but Julian. Julian being a boy and me a girl is the most obviousness of our differences, yet I almost feel the more closure to him because of it. It sort of completes our opposites in a way that unites us; to me it makes us a sort of Yin and Yang. I know other fraternal twins that aren't as close as us, but they are human and have yet more freedom than we have. And they have a way different family set up. There are times when I feel as if the whole world is against Julian and I, and we only survive by being twins.  
  
I share with Julian that we are the only two members of the family to be clones. I learned this when Julian and I were thirteen, that we were clones of our parents so that they could have children. Uncle Don actually created us; I guess that kind of made him our Dad too. None of the other children are clones, even the identical twin sets aren't clones of each other. I didn't use to feel weirded out by it, but after seeing that 1990s' movie The City of Lost Children I can't help but think I am different.  
  
There is one more element to this. Reptiles live a long time. Mutagen increases that lifetime. My father is over fifty years old, yet he is as healthy and active as a twenty year old human. My mother is in her mid thirties and already shows the strains of age. She won't be able to keep fighting past forty, and our lifetime ends around fifty. I am her clone. Julian is my fathers. That means that I will die much sooner than my twin.  
  
I love Julian. He's the only one of the family I am close to at all, in fact in the whole world. I haven't even had a boyfriend, but that's not unusual in this human dominated country. The boys that approach me don't understand me, the ones I like are scared I will eat them or something. That was quite literally the fear of Jimmy the Rabbit, who I tried to ask out. By now the myth dominates that Julian and I are our own couple, and we have no friends to disway them, so it continues. It has the additional affect of making us bitter towards them, and to our other siblings, and thus our oneness is reinforced.  
  
At this point this will only break when we go to college. Separate colleges. I have already decided. I major in music, and plan to excel in it until my death. It will allow me to leave something worthwhile on this world. My skill is with a unique instrument, a type of violin which is designed for us fox people. It holds in my hands unlike the human version, and it has a different string design to play notes that foxes hear, but not humans. Uncle Leo was upset at my decision to channel my energy into this, but my heart lies with this music and not ninjitzu. He tried so hard to enforce his own lifestyle on us, me, Julian, his son and all the others, to recreate what our fathers all went through growing up, but it is not possible. We have freedom they never could imagine in their childhood, and until recently we didn't have a reason to practice like they did.  
  
It is only because of uncle Don's murder that I submit to the daily ninjitzu practice. I intended to give it up long ago, but decided that this needed to be seen through, at least until I move out. It's not the worst thing in the world anyway; it is a useful skill and should serve me well some day.  
  
A noise pricks my ears. A gasp or almost a cry. I suddenly realize how intense the atmosphere has become. The fear of the littleuns I had grown accustomed to, although it disturbed me. It wasn't like this last year, the last anniversary had passed sadly but with out incident. This time seems different. Now I sense a new disturbance.  
  
I know only that it's not Julian. My own senses know him well enough, and he is asleep in the room next to mine.  
  
My ears instinctively tune into the hallway outside, to figure out what's happening. Possibly it is a sibling or cousin come to approach me about the tenseness of the situation. But no, it passes my door.  
  
This isn't right. Although it would seem I don't have to, I must do something to resolve all this anxiety. I wish I had thought ahead of time and tried to get my parents back earlier, we would all be so much more comfortable with them around.  
  
I open my door and see Christopher going down the stairs. I follow, he is too far ahead for me to call to him, and I don't want the others to hear me, because I don't want to scare them with why I am roaming around in the middle of the night.  
  
I loose sight of where he went downstairs. But then I hear him from the den. He must be using the phone. Who is he calling at this time of night?  
  
"Master Sheno, this is Christopher. You need to come here right away. Please call as soon as you receive this message."  
  
My fur bristles up fully. Why call Master Sheno? What's going on?  
  
Before I interrupt, he is on his own communicator, which we all carry. Sort of an evolution of cell phones, but much more advanced.  
  
"Mom, Dad, contact me as soon as you get this. We need you here (he takes a shaky sigh) now. Please. Hurry."  
  
He turns it off, tucks it back in his belt and covers his mouth...is he crying?  
  
"What's wrong, Christopher?" I inquire, stepping into the room.  
  
"Shit...Romea", he exclaims, apparently I startled him. He grabs me, half comfortingly, and half in fear. His face brightens a little at my appearance.  
  
"You're all puffed", he states.  
  
"I know. I can feel it", I reply dryly.  
  
Not having fur themselves, all the turtles love to see me "puffed"; they think it's quite hysterical. Christopher himself went through a period, from when he was about twelve to fifteen, where he would almost every day try to set traps for me and make me puff up, and when he succeeded he would laugh for days. The fact that the sight of me doesn't bring a smile further impressed upon me how serious this situation was, and I don't even know what is happening.  
  
"We need to call your parents", he says. His voice quivers.  
  
"What's going on?"  
  
He signs, almost a groan, and beckons me to follow him. We arrive outside his room.  
  
"Listen...don't scream", he tells me before opening the door.  
  
"I'm not a screamer, am I?" I reply, a little insulted.  
  
"Just don't", he insists.  
  
The door opens. He goes in first, and leads me to his bed.  
  
It took a minute to realize what was on his bed, so I was in no danger of screaming then. But upon seeing what lay there, a door seemed to open up inside my mind, that I had to shut quickly or my scream would have escaped.  
  
It was a rat. A huge dead rat which had not died by natural means upon Chris' bed. It bore several small wounds, as if someone had shot it with a pellet gun.  
  
"It has", Chris started to say and then lost his voice a minute, "It has the same exact gun shot wounds that uncle Don had", he explained.  
  
This I actually didn't know, since I didn't have any reason to examine uncle Don's murder from that aspect. But Chris would have them memorized. He had devoted a lot of his life to helping his father investigate that side of the murder to learn what weapon and from where.  
  
"You just found it...here?" I clarified.  
  
"Yes. Romea, someone came into my room and did this, someone very familiar with the assassination, probably the very one who did the assassination, and they just came in here."  
  
"No tracks?" I asked him.  
  
"I actually...as soon as I saw it and knew what it was I called Master Sheno and Dad. We need them here tonight. We can't do this ourselves. Can you call you parents too?"  
  
I nodded and took out my communicator. I wasn't expecting to reach them though, since he hadn't reached his Dad. It was two hours later where they were. We didn't have an emergency signal or anything; such a simple thing was never worked out. I left a message similar to the one Chris left.  
  
"Let's get Julian, and the others, and have us all stay in one room together", Chris suggested.  
  
"The littleuns are already scared", I told him, "They'll appreciate the company. We'll all go the den, and we can watch movies together. Donatello and William should be told about this though."  
  
"I don't think so...they're so young and this is their Dad...why don't we wait to tell them until our parents are back to help?"  
  
"Fine", I agreed.  
  
We left his room and together went to Julian's. I knocked at the door but received no answer. Not wanting to wake the children before necessary, and since I had privilege of being a twin, I quietly opened the door.  
  
"Julian", I whispered.  
  
There was no answer, and my senses tried to tell me something. I turned on the lights.  
  
Julian's room was worse than Christopher's.  
  
Julian's room was empty. 


	9. Christopher II

Hey,  
  
First of all, the fan fiction people accidentally deleted this review when they were improving the site, and since I believe the reviews are adding a lot to the developing story I wanted to include it, so I just added it here at the beginning of this chapter:  
  
The following review has been submitted to: The Saga of the Next Generation Chapter: 9  
  
From: Ramica ()  
  
LOL the part of Christopher setting traps to see Romera puff up. Then a sudden switch to the rat killed like their Uncle Don and Julian's empty room well you sure know how to do cliffhangers. Anxiously awaiting next chapter.  
  
There.  
  
Now, more notes.  
  
For those wondering, I forgot to mention in the last chapter that the older children refer to all of the younger children as littleuns, as from Lord of The Flies, because there are so many to keep track of.  
  
I am attempting to rotate the children that I tell the story from by their parents, ideally, Leonardo's kid, Michelangelo's kid, Donatello's kid, and Raphael's kid. I intend to maintain this order, however some turtles have more kids than others, and in particular Leo has only two, and regrettably (deep sigh) Katlins perspective will no longer be a part of the story. So now Christopher will be filling every forth chapter, although he's not really any more key than the others. It just worked out that way.  
  
And, yes, there will, in a few chapters, be an in-depth tale of what happened to Mike, how he ended up the way he is, and events will happen that will be very inspiring (if I do it right). And more family relations will be revealed as the story develops, but now it's in the more fast-paced heart. I'm going to include a separate note before the next chapter to describe a little more of the family too.  
  
Anyway, here lies Christopher's perspective, and I think you will all be intrigued by what an interesting son he is for Leonardo.  
  
Christopher:  
  
So, this is how its going to be. A rat assassinated in the same manner as my uncle before his two-year death anniversary, and now my cousin missing, the open window our only clue to where he had gone, and no clue as to whether it was willingly or not. I looked out the window, but there was no trace of him in the immediate vicinity.  
  
Which leaves me and my girl cousin left to fight. My girl cousin who is ridiculously puffed up now, either that or the whole frightening situation makes me want to laugh, but I don't dare. As much joy as Romea's fur has given me in the past, I do wish she were a turtle right now. It seems silly to try and lead a fluffy ball into battle, and its just worse under her robe, with the fur sticking out. I don't understand how this because a natural technique for her people, it isn't scary at all. I've never seen her mother do it, and somehow Rowdie pulls it off looking purposeful, as if it was part of a fighting sequence, you know, round kick, high slice, fluff fur, high kick...  
  
With what appears to be anguishing slowness, I turn my thoughts to my younger cousins. I don't want to think of how many there are and how, if Julian's gone with out us knowing, suppose this monster can get everyone else too...Now I really need to make sure they are all together and safe, I need to calm Romea down and I have got to get a hold of somebody that can help us.  
  
Romea is already on her communicator, trying to call her parents, and when she doesn't get through she leaves another halfhearted message and hangs up, bursting into tears. I know she's close to Julian, God knows those two only have each other to care about. I embrace her and try to keep her quiet so as not to alarm the littleuns, assuming they are still in the house. Although we grew up together, sort of like brothers and sister, we've never been really close. The last time I comforted her like this was when our uncle died.  
  
"We better check on the littleuns", I finally suggested, trying to take control. Her tears had subsided.  
  
Before she could answer, our communicators both rang. They were programmed so that we could call as many of each other as we needed at the same time, a little like walkie-talkies but with more control, and of course picture ability. We both answered them.  
  
"Chris, Romea, its me", Julian said, his voice and image bringing an immense amount of relief. He didn't look hurt at all, and obviously wasn't tied up. But then what the hell was he...  
  
"Julian", Romea gasped, "What the hell are you doing? I was so scared-"  
  
"I know. I'm sorry", he apologized sincerely but curtly, "I saw someone sneaking around, and I followed them. Its him."  
  
"What?" We chimed together, the problem with three way communication.  
  
"The guy that killed uncle Don. I'm sure of it. I tracked him back to this area and looked around and there's some freaky shit going on over here. I need you guys to get down here now and end this."  
  
"We can't", I started to protest, and "We aren't ninja masters." Our parents will be back tomorrow-"  
  
"Tomorrow he might be gone!" Julian hissed, "Your Dad had two years to get this guy and he failed. We can do it tonight. We have to."  
  
All my years of striving to be a hero like my father blow up in my face.  
  
"Where are you?" Romea asks. Its clear she's going to do it, so I'd better get my will together and join her.  
  
"Just head south. After the woods break you'll see a big stone building. It looks abandoned but its not."  
  
His eyes flashed darkly when he said that. He stressed the "not". I don't want to face it.  
  
"What about the littleuns?" I say. It is a practical matter, after all someone besides the maids should look after them.  
  
Julian rolls his eyes.  
  
"If we get this guy they'll be a lot safer, won't they? Just wake up Tatiana and tell her to look after them all. And bring Donatello and William with you."  
  
"What? Donatello and William aren't ready for this! They're not even at level-"  
  
"Trust me, we'll need them", Julian cuts me off, "Besides, its their Dad. They should be here."  
  
"Julian-", I start to protest.  
  
"No, Chris, do as I say, and do it now. If you've ever had any faith in me as a ninja or a cousin, you'll be here."  
  
Julian ended his call, so Romea and I hung up as well.  
  
Her fur had calmed down considerably since finding out he was okay. Thank God, I wasn't looking forward to having Commodore FluffyPants in battle. Her eyes were better too, no longer tear filled, now they were...determined. Maybe that wasn't so much better.  
  
"Let me change and grab my weapons", she suggested, "And you get Donatello and William and wake up Tatiana."  
  
She left with out giving me a chance... What is it I want a chance to do?  
  
Reluctantly, I steel myself to accomplish these tasks, the realization that I might die tonight creeping through my mind. And behind it, the realization that I am a coward. But, if I do die, at least my father won't know how scared I am. He'll think I died bravely in battle, with honor.  
  
I approach Tatiana first. I quickly explain the situation to her, and suggest she keep trying to contact our parents and Master Sheno, and that she wake up the maids and gather everyone together to keep them safe. Under any other circumstances I would never give her this much responsibility, she's kind of a nervous person and she never seemed to like any of us much, except for Uncle Don, of course, who she liked a little too much in my opinion.  
  
After leaving her in a frenzy of dressing herself and bundling the babies and waking the maids, I head to Donatello's room. He is already awake with William. The two of them were just sitting on the bed together, staring at the ceiling. I almost don't want to tell them anything about it, and at first the words won't physically come out. Sure, I can die bravely or cowardly in battle, but it's not fair to condemn them to the same fate. They're only fourteen.  
  
"Chris, what's going on?" William asks after about thirty seconds of awkward silence.  
  
"We know something's happening", Donatello added.  
  
Neither of them meets my eyes, which actually makes it easier to talk.  
  
"Julian's found the assassin. We're going after him. Tonight. Right now. Julian insisted you two come with."  
  
They each raised their eyes at this, and sat up.  
  
"Julian asked for us?" William clarified.  
  
"Yes. Are you...ready?"  
  
They glanced briefly at each other, and then get off the bed. Donatello retrieves his sharpened bo from the corner of his room; William tucks knives into his belt. He actually is really good with those things, I have confidence in that.  
  
"Yes, we're ready", Donatello answers for both of them.  
  
And so the four of us, battle ready, head south through the woods. I am leading, the tails of my black eye-mask blowing in the gentle breeze as if that's suppose to make me look cool. I almost want to take it off, but it helps give me something to hide behind. Julian wears a red mask like his father. Romea, Donatello, William don't wear masks at all. They don't believe in it. Donatello and William aren't ninjas, they're geeks who know how to fight. Romea's a musician who was compelled to go through training because she grew up in this family. This is ridiculous! It should never have come to be the five of us going up against this guy, it should my father, my mother, Uncle Raph, Aunt Nadia, and Uncle Mike. That's the five it was meant to be.  
  
This is going to be a disaster.  
  
To be continued... 


	10. Judaism

Judaism's perspective comes from quite a different experience than the others. His timeline is about the same time as the others, but a little in the future. It's deliberately vague what happened to him and his family, but its obviously connected to what Chris is experiencing.  
  
Judaism:  
  
Oh, what fools we be Having believed in our superiority  
  
Oh, what fools we be The chickens come home to roost Mother, Brother, dead  
  
Oh, what fools we be.  
  
Pretty good stream of poetry I have going on here. Got the rhyme, got the ionic parameter, I even got a Haiku going. Before today I knew this art form only in books, devoid of any context although we had of course been taught to analyze the environment. But now I know truly, tragedy, angst, pain and agony, these are the feelings that beget poetry.  
  
Our lives have always been so normal. So same. Every day, we study; we play...that's all we do here.  
  
Never has there been a day like this. I dare say, with all I know of history, this is the worst day the Kinicha ever had.  
  
I compose these words as my sister and I flee our homeland, four hours after witnessing the brutal murder of our mother and brother.  
  
I have other things to think about, other thoughts deluging my numbed mind.  
  
Like, if only we had realized how special that Spiderman comic was.  
  
All our lives my siblings and I considered ourselves better than the others. Better than our friends, better than our teachers, better than our own mother. We were an evolution of the Kiticha; we have turtle blood and the mutant touch. All Kiticha study human culture, we all excel at learning because that is what we do our whole lives. We don't start wars, we don't visit other areas, we don't buy or sell things, but we learn about it all. We learn in as many different languages as we can. Currently I know English, Arabic, French, and Mandarin Chinese.  
  
But at the height of our schooling, when we were thirteen years old, we failed to recognize the lesson laid out so well in that comic, laid out in words and pictures, in French even, which is our principle language.  
  
The comic itself was new, but it was a reprint of an old story, the origins of Spiderman. This wasn't a character that interested me normally, but I was investigating the pop culture of America, and this was an icon that had been around for generations so I wanted to read it myself. The comic had blown in from somewhere, probably left behind by some campers or something, since we don't have many comic stores in the mountains.  
  
Anyway, the lesson that we missed, which now comes to haunt me as I fly, was basically this:  
  
Spiderman has all these cool powers. At first he didn't want to be a superhero. He let his first bad-guy go. See, he'd gotten mad at this guy who cheated him from money. The guy then ends up getting robbed, but he decides not to use his powers when he has the chance to stop this robber, because he's mad at the other guy. In a twist of irony that resonates forever now through out my life, the robber he let go then goes on to kill his uncle, whom he had loved.  
  
I can't believe that, having been impacted by this story at such a young age, I refused the chance to help my own turtle family when they needed it eight years later. Our mother called us down that day, and I remember her exact words (they were in French though):  
  
"Children, one of your uncles on your turtle side was murdered today. Your father has contacted me to ask that we assist in the search for the assassin. You know how I feel towards him, but he is your father, they are your family and you should decide for yourselves if you want to help. I'm sure your skills would be of much use to them."  
  
And what was our answer? Did we show the maturity of our twenty-one years? Did I, with all my intellectual schooling, use this chance to demonstrate the lesson that should most have stuck with me?  
  
Our answer was a unanimous and resounding "no". Why should we leave our home and comfort to put ourselves in danger for them? They weren't family; we had never even met them. Our father gave us the mutagen in our blood, the turtle features in our bodies, and that was all. It was genetic only; there was no bond there. We didn't care that our uncle we didn't know had been murdered, we didn't shed a tear over that. We didn't attend the funeral, and we didn't assist in any way to find the killer.  
  
And so as we made the same choice as Spiderman did, we now share his fate. The assassin came around to kill our mother and brother, two very dear family members.  
  
It's too late to think about how we could have changed things. Now we must take that lesson learned too late to heart.  
  
We must find our lost cousins, uncles, siblings and unite with them to defeat this bad guy.  
  
And then we will spend the rest of our lives making up for all the evil we allowed to flourish in our youth, our foolish youth. 


	11. William

William - Saga of next generation By Red Turtle  
  
A/N: My friends...I write this from the floor, too (gasp) weak to get up...my ego crippled by the utter and total lack of reviews on this last part. It might have (gasp) died if it didn't have 34 previous reviews to sustain it. If you believe in my ego and want it to live...clap. No, it's too late; it can (gasp) no longer hear you all. But... it can check the (gasp) review button. So...review...  
  
So, I guess you all didn't take to Judaism very well. Sorry about that. Hopefully Donatello's son William and the confrontation with the one responsible for the violence on the turtle family will reinspire you all. The story is far from over at this point (maybe half way), so I do hope I still have everyone's interest.  
  
I'm going to do Julian next, and then I will have Michelangelo himself.  
  
William:  
  
Every movie I see about family tragedies, they all have at least one person say the line: "Everything was fine until the (sickness, accident, or natural disaster)".  
  
Its so cliché, but it was so true of our family. Everything was fine until the horrendous murder of our father.  
  
I can't even remember life clearly before that, except that it was fine.  
  
Our parents were divorced; such as they were married since the government had specified, for our benefit, that marriage could only constitute a partnership between a human man and a woman. But that wasn't so bad, Mom wrote us frequently and once or twice a year we would visit her.  
  
Donatello's and I had been blessed with decent names, which given that we were twins we could have ended up with something like Ed and Ned or, god forbid, Chicken and Pie like our younger brothers. We actually have middle names as well, the story is that our parents were fighting about what to call us, especially that our father didn't want Donatello named after him, and originally they were each going to name one of us but had to compromise by naming us both together. Donatello's first name is Thomas, and father really tried to have him called that but Donatello stuck instead. He gave me William as my first name, and my Mom gave me Adrian.  
  
We have a good balance of friendship; we're close but nothing too creepy like our older cousins who can't seem to be apart from each other for more than an hour. We're the same age but Donatello took on the older brother persona, although technically I am older by five minutes. But I'm very laid back, very non-assertive and somehow I end up being naive about things that he knows expertly.  
  
There was school, a lot of school. I think I mainly excelled in school because I learned to follow Donatello's lead. He is able to grasp things so much easier than I can. He can just look at machinery or a chemical reaction or anything and just understand it, how it works and everything, where as I have to study it, take it apart, to get it. He would read a book and have it memorized, he could listen to a foreign language and start to understand it after a few sentences. These are things I could never match him in, but as far as anyone knew I was just as good as he was. Even Dad thought so.  
  
At the time of the atrocity, Donatello and I were still attending elementary school. We were set to graduate at twelve. We had big plans, applying to an intensive high school course that we would finish by fourteen years of age, then on to college, me I wanted to explore chemistry, Donatello planned to become a surgeon. He had the ability, I'm sure, in fact he would have already outpaced me academically but he didn't want to be alone. Especially now.  
  
Short of being murdered himself, my brother got it worst than any of us, no more than a foot away while the bullets cut father down. I saw it on TV, but I was very sick at the time and didn't even realize totally what had happened. Uncle Leo was present, but he'd been in the back of the arena, and I know he was our father's brother but how does that compare to a son, especially a namesake? Donatello was on stage, to share in the reward because we had both contributed to our father's work. I would have been there myself had I not been ill.  
  
Donatello had always been kind of quiet, but after that, well, he didn't speak at all for almost a week. We're not telepathic or anything, so I had no idea what was going on in him. He lost his photographic memory ability, or at least no longer used it, and he hasn't expressed any of his former dreams. I kind of lost my cool about being a chemist too, and we both decided unofficially to just go through high school in the usual four years, which still puts us at graduating at sixteen.  
  
We always had ninjitzu lessons, as long as I can remember. I was ten when I took up knives as my choice, I wanted something long ranged. Donatello instantly took to the Bo like father. After his death, he sharpened his bo on each end, and added metal grindings, so it isn't as pacifist as it had been. We practice and we study ninjitzu although we never intended to actually use it against a real enemy. Uncle Leo shared with us the story of his father's masters' murder, and how at thirteen he and his brothers avenged him, thinking that would inspire us, but no. We would be just as satisfied if some unknown person came in and solved the assassin problem for us, in fact I would prefer it to running through the forest at midnight like this.  
  
I wonder why Julian requested us. It might just be on the basis of our revenge, that he wants us to have a piece of it. But Donatello and I are nowhere near Christopher, Julian or Romea's level, and I doubt we'll be much help if we don't get killed.  
  
"There, that's the building he was talking about", Romea whispers, indicating a dark gray building in the clearing ahead of us. There are no lights on, making it hard to spot.  
  
We slink through the surrounding woods and stealthily make our way to the field. Julian suddenly appears beside us. He's really good at this ninja stuff, and he doesn't even pay attention to half of the lessons. He's just naturally good. Imagine what he could do with a little discipline.  
  
"Okay, what's the word", Chris inquires.  
  
"I saw someone coming out of your window", Julian begins, "and I followed them here. They dressed in a gray outfit, but I couldn't tell anything more about them. I went in here after them. Get this, the one in your room was human, but there's a guy in there, the lead guy, he's a mutant lion or something. He's got a whole set up, computer screens and stuff I never saw before, that's why we need you guys (he means me and Donatello). He has a whole wall of pictures of us, all of us, like even those bird kids of uncle Mikes'. I don't know what that's about, but I think he's the assassin, because he has uncle Dons' picture...uh-"  
  
He glances nervously at us. Donatello looks down at his sharpened bo.  
  
"When you see it, you'll know what I mean", Julian concludes in a softer tone than I ever heard him use before, "What did he take from your room, anyway?"  
  
"He didn't take anything, he left something", Chris answered, kind of ambiguously.  
  
"He left a dead rat", Romea elaborated.  
  
"A dead rat? What they hell does that mean? Does it have something to do with our grandfather?" Julian asked.  
  
"I don't think so", Chris sighed, looking again at me and Donatello, "It was killed in a very specific manner. It was a message."  
  
"Like what, was it crucified?", Julian inquires bluntly.  
  
"No, it...I don't want to...upset you guys..." Chris stammers.  
  
He means Donatello, and me of course. We're the odd ones out here, the ones who have no reason to be here except that it was our father who was murdered, that started all this.  
  
"Just tell us", Donatello said, "I've seen the worst already myself, haven't I?"  
  
His eyes narrow in anger at this memory, and I shudder, but I steel my nerves and look back at Chris.  
  
"Right", Chris sighs, "Okay. The rat was left on my bed and it was shot with a little pellet gun or something, with the exact same wounds as...ah, your Dad."  
  
There's a delay, I'd like to think it was a minute but maybe only ten seconds, before I find myself involuntarily gagging at the image and what it meant. The picture comes to focus clearly in my head, this rat, and someone holding it down or whatever to do the pattern...God, how did they even know what the pattern of shots was? How did Chris? I guess there's an autopsy report somewhere, that would be reasonable...but why is everyone reading it? I could never...  
  
And then the gag becomes a full-fledged vomit that I just managed to turn away and hide some.  
  
"Are you...okay?" Romea asks gently.  
  
"Fine, I'll be fine", I answer.  
  
'Look, I understand if you guys can't go through with this-"  
  
"We can", Donatello replies, and with a tone and conviction I can't echo even though I have the same voice. He's so different than he used to be. He looks capable of killing someone, killing our enemy as Uncle Leo described their killing Shredder. I had no idea he had this in him. I have never felt so distant from him, and yet I also feel more closure to him on a deeper level than ever before. The thought that he is my younger twin brother and I must stand with him calms me. I hurry my body together and turn back to them.  
  
"Its probably better to go into these things with nothing in your stomach", I explain, as if I had purposefully purged myself, "That way you don't get sick or anything in battle."  
  
"Okay", Chris replies, with slight puzzlement in his eyes, "So, we've determined that the people in this building are connected to the assassination. What exactly are we going to do, capture them and call the police?"  
  
"Uh...no", Julian answers, "We're going to kill them."  
  
"But, what about interrogating them, why they did it?"  
  
"These guys, this organization or whatever, they've been escaping us for years. They got into our house, goddamn it, and we wouldn't have ever known if I hadn't been looking out the window. Maybe they've been doing that for years and I just now caught them. If we let any of them the slightest chance of slipping through and surviving, they might come back and kill us all."  
  
"We can't take any chances", Romea agrees.  
  
"I just wanted to make sure that's what were doing", Chris says weakly, "I mean, we don't know anything about this organization. How strong are they?"  
  
"There're not that strong. I only saw maybe ten guys in there altogether, and how many people are going to hook up with a giant lion that just wants to kill us? What kind of mission is that?" Julian countered.  
  
"People who are impressed by how long the murder went unsolved; maybe", Chris answers, "Or people who hate mutants."  
  
"But there's a mutant lion leading it."  
  
"Okay, people who hate turtles then", Chris snaps, "There could be a lot."  
  
I'm getting the impression Chris isn't happy to be here. I thought he was more into this ninjitzu-honor stuff than any of us. I certainly never expected Julian to be taking the lead.  
  
"All the more reason to go in there and kill them now", Romea declared.  
  
"You two are down with that, right?" Julian asks us.  
  
'Yes', we reply together, but Donatello sounds more sure than I am.  
  
Julian explains to us how he got in and the forces he saw there. Apparently they don't have much in security, counting on their low profile and ability to escape our parents' notice. He just snuck in through a vent opening in the roof and crawled through the ducts. So we do the same. Donatello and I actually enjoyed the art of slinking silently; it's an interesting use of muscles. This we are on par with the others in.  
  
We crawl through the ducts, following Julian's lead. It's not too far in that he stops us, pointing through a grate for Christopher to see out from. They use hand signals, that were part of our training, to communicate. Except of course that would be one of the parts I'm weak on. I make out jumping down, and an indication that we want to head towards the right wall. I glance at Donatello, and see he understands it perfectly, but I can't ask him to translate, of course.  
  
This is it. Julian kicks the grate and we pour out into a huge room. Our big moment of revenge, and I don't even know what were getting into. We start attacking all the gray figures gathered there. There actually aren't too many. Donatello and I set a good pattern, I pick targets off with my knives from a distance and he gets the ones that come up too close.  
  
I see the lion creature Julian was talking about, and I recognize him from a picture. Saber Khan. He put out some literature attacking my father's role in the intellectual community, making allegations about him and his ninja activities in his youth, dissing us for being turtles, and dissing him a lot for sleeping with humans (uncle Leo and uncle Raph both are married to mutants). I don't know what his problem was with us, after all he's a mutant lion or something, definitely not human, so what does he care?  
  
Based on what I know of him, I don't have too much trouble believing he's responsible for the whole thing. I didn't think I had anger or rage in me, but standing in this room now, I feel it. I want to run up and take him on myself, throw knives into him like they were bullets, except I don't want to kill him. I want my brother to do the honor.  
  
I actually start making my way towards him. There aren't many of these other guys in this organization; my cousins can take the rest out easily. Donatello has the same idea, he shadows me.  
  
Khan is standing on a raised part of the room, watching us with brief glances but mostly paying attention to his elaborate computer set up. A shimmering pink circle appears along one wall, kind of strange but nothing to worry about for now.  
  
We're about ten feet from him when things suddenly get totally crazy. Hordes of these gray-clad soldiers appear, I saw them coming from an open door but they're so fast and silent that its almost as if they materialized around us. Wow, Julian totally underestimated what was going on here. Apparently a lot of people would hook up with an organization that's main purpose seems to be to kill and torment us. I can't even throw my knives; these guys are so all over us. I start doing hand-to-hand combat, which I never liked and seems kind of useless since there no way were going to defeat them all. I'm surprised one of them hasn't come up behind me already and ended it.  
  
My mind starts detaching as I fight, thinking that this will be the end. The last I ever see in my life will be this room with Khan winning.  
  
My mind comes back with a snap. I realize that some of the horde have grabbed Donatello and are carrying him towards Khan. What, are they going to assassinate him now? I forget that it's hopeless and launch into a full rescue attempt, actually cutting deep some of my foes, backing them off from around me. I briefly register Chris attempting to make his way over as well. Julian and Romea have been pushed farther back and are viciously retaliating, but there too many for them to be able to help us here.  
  
Its only two layers of fighter between my twin and me. Tapping into some strange energy I didn't know I possessed, I literally slice through them. My knives seem to know exactly what to do; I don't even have to think about it anymore, which leaves me able to observe what is happening between Khan and my brother.  
  
Donatello is held by three or four others, he still has his weapon but can't bring it to bear. Khan approaches him, looks him up and down, pats his cheek, and then grabs him from the ones holding him, lifts him up, carries him to the wall with the weird pink spot and throws him at it. And Donatello disappears. Just like that.  
  
I don't know what that light is. My best guess is it's a disintegration ray, because there is no trace of Donatello anywhere and Khan looks very satisfied. But, damn it, that was my brother, and I intend to follow him, even to death.  
  
Whether I defeated my surrounding foes or they just let me through I don't have time to contemplate. I run onto the platform and jump into the light myself. If Donatello did die than I share his fate.  
  
My mind wanted me to know the last thing I heard before the unknown pink engulfed me.  
  
Its Christopher shouting, "Wiiilllliiiaaammm!!" 


	12. Julian

Julian - Saga of the next generation By: Red Turtle  
  
Hey,  
  
This was much better. I also appreciate the more critical reviews. I suppose I could have done better with Judaism, but you know part of the story is everyone changing and developing, and he led a very sheltered, spoiled life until recently, so hopefully he will become a character people respect. I kind of based it off of real families that are separated like that, I've always found that interesting.  
  
Chris is actually now one of my favorites to write, because his hopelessness is so funny, and as I said I think he's an interesting son for Leonardo, although I guess he could reflect badly on him. But your kids don't always turn out the way you raise them to.  
  
As for the other review, about there being too many characters, well, don't worry, things are about to get hella simpler in that regard (although still complicated and intricate plot). For those of you who react strongly to character death, I suggest you take the time now to prepare yourselves for this.  
  
BTW, Julian swears a lot.  
  
Julian:  
  
There is a very old expression for this adventure: What a mother-fucking escapade!  
  
Maybe I should have just tried a simple old-fashioned one-man assassination, just waited in the ducts until the lion guy was alone; them ambushed him and did him in with one swipe of the sword. But no, I had to go get my cousins and sister, thinking we would be an unstoppable team. What a fucking joke we are, these guys got us where they want us, and we're helpless.  
  
Well, not totally helpless. Romea and I are a challenge; together we are knocking quite a few off. I'm impressed; we've never been in a real life- or-death fight before. All the other ninjas have used so far on us are knives and bos, pretty low tech operations except for the giant fancy computer over there. Even though we seem to be winning, we are still overwhelmed, and we can't get any closure to Donatello, William, or Chris. I can't even really see what's going on over these guys crowding us.  
  
"What's he doing with Donatello?! Shit, Julian! He's got Donatello!" Romea yells, stepping up her fighting. I step up with her, but we can't keep up a pace like this for long.  
  
In fact, I'm not even sure I'm still fighting when I see my younger cousin thrown into a bright pink light and disappear.  
  
"Where is he?! Where the fuck is he?!", Romea shouts to me.  
  
I don't answer. What's the point? I don't know what happened to him. It didn't look good though, and it looked ten times worse when William goes jumping through a minute later. Wow, for all the comments and jokes people make about me and Romea, I have to say I would not follow her into something like that.  
  
But I could understand William's mind, sort of. Maybe I wouldn't follow her to death or whatever, but it would drive me crazy to see her hurt.  
  
What I don't understand is seeing Chris, after a heart-rending cry, run up and jump in the same light, and disappear as well.  
  
What the fuck, Chris?  
  
Boy, some leader he turned out to be. For the past two years he's always preaching to us to behave, attend out lessons, respect Master Sheno, be nice to our siblings, all because we are suppose to become better ninjas that way, and the point of being ninjas is so we can avenge our uncle, but here the opportunity comes and he was totally wussing out. Call the cops my ass. Now he just up and disintegrates himself on us.  
  
Now its down to me and Romea. I suppose a little err on the side of caution would have been helpful right about now.  
  
I suddenly realize the ninjas aren't fighting us anymore, but they still stand between the lion guy and us. I wonder if he's the same lion that circulated all those fucked up pamphlets about our uncle years ago. They were all over people's cars and the school, I remember, and very anti- mutant-turtle orientated, particularly anti-uncle-Don orientated. Uncle Don was alive back then, and he stayed home with his wife and usually at least one of my parents or Christopher's would be home as well, so we had lots of concerned grown-ups to go to about it. Not like now, where we could really, really fucking use some adults. Great going, guys, leave us to go find the killer and he's right in our back yard.  
  
"Do you wish to follow their fate, or do you wish to die?", the Lion demands of us.  
  
Romea and I are not telepathic, but I'm sure she is thinking the same thing I am, which is, we wish to get the fuck out of here.  
  
We can't climb back up the air ducts, its too high. Hmmn..how the fuck do we get out of here alive?  
  
An explosion rocks me into he wall, then another one throw me to the floor, along with most of the other ninja. Explosion isn't quite the right word for it, though, because it isn't very loud, just forceful. Some of the wall behind me collapses.  
  
My sister is at my side, yanking me up and pulling me after her as she makes a mad dash down a hallway, tossing some more concussion grenades into the room for good measure. (BTW: concussion grenades in the future are very tiny and portable, although quite expensive.)  
  
Okay, I guess we aren't as in tune with each other as I thought, since that was as much a surprise for me as it was for the enemy. It was so much a surprise for me I think I sprained my foot or something, but I'm going to run on it all the same.  
  
We spend a frightening period running around in the hall, through rooms looking for some indication of the outside. It doesn't help that the lights are off in all the rooms past the hallway. I don't know if the grenades damaged the power, if it's a deliberate attempt to stop our escape or they just save on energy bills.  
  
The guy I had followed must have used a door or something, where the fuck is it? We don't have much time.  
  
Romea takes her two remaining grenades and tosses them at walls, breaking them apart and finally we see a section of less darkness, the outside.  
  
We run out and start heading back home. I get on my communicator and program it to call all of our siblings and cousins, to alert them to the situation. Fuck it, we might as well bring the cops in, because we're not going to solve this the ninja way at this point.  
  
But nobody answers the call.  
  
Romea and I both stop, so she can concentrate on using hers while I keep watch.  
  
She lets it ring and ring.  
  
I can't believe that, out of eight children, and Tatiana, and our parents, no one is picking up our call.  
  
We put our communicators away and decide to all and out book it back to our house. It doesn't seem like the ninja are following us, but if they are than the house is the safest and easiest to defend right now, and then we can call who ever we want from there.  
  
It didn't seem that far away when I was following that guy earlier, it seemed like it was literally in our back yard. But trying to go back, I totally get those movies where they show the heroes running in slow motion, trying to save the world in time. Shit.  
  
Finally it comes into view. It's all dark, so it's hard to see against the sky. Am I just freaked out, or does it look different somehow? Well, I know in a bit anyway, because were almost there.  
  
And then I get the fucking scare of my fucking life!  
  
Two shadows emerge from the roof of the house and fly towards us. I can't tell what the hell they are, they're big and winged.  
  
"Cousins, Cousins!", one of them cries, as they land before us.  
  
What the fuck.wait a minute.are these those Bird-things of uncle Mikes? What the hell are they doing over here, I thought they were in Nepal or some shit.  
  
"Cousins?", Romea asks hesitantly.  
  
"Yes, we are, we are decedents of Michelangelo", one explains. I think she's a girl, she sounds like a girl. She doesn't have breasts or anything though, so it's kind of hard to tell really. Her body is covered in feathers, her fingers end in talons, and her eyes are exactly that of a bird, small and totally black, and with that intense look birds always seem to have. But she has a shell, and green skin under the feathers, evidence of our uncle Mike. She and the other one stand close to each other, I notice as the discussion proceeds that they are both trembling.  
  
"We are Raphael's son and daughter", Romea says, "I'm Romea, this is Julian.  
  
"Oh, after the Shakespeare play. How clever", the girl comments, "I am Catholicism, and this is Judaism."  
  
We nod in acquaintance. Part of me nags at my head about needing to get back to the house, the other part says no, you better just stay here.  
  
"Forgive our rush", Romea says, "But this is not a good time for a visit. We must return to our family-"  
  
"No, cousins, we have been to that house already. You can't return there", Catholicism (I'm just going to call her Cathy) tells us.  
  
"We have to. Our family is in danger", Romea insists, and I see she's sizing them up in case we have to fight.  
  
"They were in danger, but.not now-", Cathy starts to say, but doesn't finish. She clamps her beak down, I realize she's crying.  
  
"Well, where are they then?", Romea asks.  
  
"They're dead, cousins", Judaism finishes.  
  
. . . .  
  
Dead what not my family I mean besides Uncle Don they couldn't kill them all they must have missed one or two at least I'll go over and rescue them now  
  
I dash off towards the house, and this time the house seems to be coming a lot up a lot faster, not like before when everything was so slow.  
  
"No, Julian, you don't want to see this", Judaism shouts after me.  
  
I run so that they won't catch me. I don't know if Romea came after me too, I can't even think about her. I run to the steps and throw open the door, not expecting it to already be open so that I almost stumble down.  
  
You know something? He was fucking right. I didn't want to see this. I wish to God I had not seen this. Some rational part of me closes my eyes and tries to erase the images, but its too late, because already other parts of my mind are at work identifying what I saw and telling me that the small flashes of orange among the bodies would be that of my own little brother.  
  
It says maybe I should go over and make sure, you know, that he's not maybe still alive.but fuck it I am not doing that.  
  
Another section of my mind comes into play. It patiently explains to me that it was too easy to follow that one ninja. This was a set up. They lured us older ones all away from the home, then when we were fucking around over there they came in and slaughtered the defenseless littleuns. Sure JB was there, he could have put up some kind of fight but.  
  
"Julian, come back, please", Romea asks from behind me.  
  
I back out of the house, eyes closed until I am off the steps. When I open them I am still looking down. I've gotten blood on my feet, not a lot, but all the more contrasting because of how red it is there, how green I am, and how its suppose to be still inside my family members, not here on my fucking foot.  
  
"Were so sorry", Judaism says.  
  
He and his sister are standing apart from us.  
  
"We came too late. We would have stopped them if we had arrived in time", Catholicism offers.  
  
"They attacked our family as well. Our mother, our brother, they are murdered.", Judaism explains further. I'm not even really listening.  
  
Romea and I don't answer. We hug each other. We're all that's left! Thirteen children and were all that's left! At least I still have her. Fuck me for thinking such an aberrant thought, but damn it she is my favorite, and I am glad I still have her.  
  
And now we really need to find our parents, even uncle Mike. 


	13. Christopher III

Saga of the Next Generation - Christopher By: Red Turtle  
  
These reviews, man, these are fantastic! Everything I ever wanted in reviews. And did you all see Caboose reviewed too, a very positive and serious one. Read it if you haven't yet, it's a whole nother side of him most of you probably didn't realize (for those who don't know, he's famous for horrible yet splendidly well written TMNT death stories). I'm very proud to have generated so much criticism. I am also slightly embarrassed about the whole "closure" versus "closer" thing. Stupid English language.  
  
Anyway, here we have Christopher again. Yes, they did indeed survive. I'm going to see if I can lay this out right, beautifully and mysteriously, so I don't want to give away too much of what's happening here ahead of time. For the chapter with Donatello I will explain everything so there's no more confusion. But for now we remain shrouded in mystery, much to LenniluvsBrians' chagrin.  
  
As for Mike, I decided to just do him where I would do one of his kids instead, so he will be next. And, for those anxiously awaiting, he will be long, answer many questions and hopefully fulfill many desires for a story about him. In fact, I think I might make it a story all unto itself, separate from here but obviously part of the saga. Well, you all will see.  
  
One more note, for those who utterly despise Emenen, I quote heavily from a song here. I am not a huge fan, but there were all kinds of thoughts this song brought up, including the meaning that it's playing has in the story. Rest assured I am going some where with this; I am not about randomly promoting Ememin. Also, as further proof to that, I don't have the lyrics memorized and I don't have a CD or time to research it, so if I miss a word try not to jump all over me. I believe I have it correct but thought I would put out a disclaimer anyway.  
  
Christopher:  
  
Sweet nothingness of death. How I have waited for this. No more worries, no more stress, no responsibilities, just this weightless sensation, as if I'm falling. I shut my eyes as I jumped into the ray of oblivion that had taken my twin cousins because I was afraid of what death would look like. This is actually quite pleasant, I see nothing, I feel nothing.  
  
THUMP!  
  
Okay. . .that was something. . .  
  
I seem to have landed hard. If I am thinking, and feeling, I'm probably not dead after all.  
  
Goddamn it.  
  
I suppose I'll have to open my eyes and rejoin the world. I'll have to take responsibility for whatever's going on here. And I'll have to make up some passable reason for jumping into a ray of death.  
  
With a sigh, I open my eyes and learn that the something I landed on is my cousin William. He's waiting patiently for me to get off of him, which I do. I even help him up, looking around as I do so. This is definitely not the room we were in before, now we're outside somewhere. We're in a narrow garbage ridden alley, bordered by apartment buildings. Donatello, very much alive, stands at the street entrance to this alley, half hidden by the wall, watching intently the going ons in the street.  
  
"Where are-", I start to inquire, and am immediately cut off with a harsh "Shhhh!" from the twins.  
  
They don't usually act in unison, that's an indication not to mess with them. So I bide my time until they see fit to tell me what's going on. Donatello keeps his watch on the street, ducking back every so often and then cautiously reemerging. I wonder what it is he's hiding from, I doubt that our enemies traveled with us. William is observing the sky, and then turns his attention to the garbage, shifting through it as it he's looking for something. He stares at an old newspaper for a long time. Meanwhile, I check my swords for damage and, finding that they survived our little trip, I tuck them into the scabbard on my shell. I adjust my eye mask, it has a tendency to work its way into covering my eyes if its not tied just right. Still the twins are involved in their observations and don't seem ready to talk, so I lean against the alley wall and look around, trying to figure out for my self where we are.  
  
I hear some music playing from a window above us. It's a familiar song to me, something I've heard a lot but can't quite place. It's a minute before I remember it's a song Chicken and Pie are really into, I recognize the guys voice. He's really obnoxious, and the songs really obnoxious, and those two blast it every chance they get. It's not even a top hit or anything, this song is like fifty years old, yet they are really into it, and a lot of the music from that time. I can't see why people used to listen to this stuff, its all a bunch of swear words and stuff about killing and money and sex, and certainly not stuff ten year olds need to be listening to. When Dad was visiting he heard them playing it and gave them the lecture of a life time, but as soon as he left they were back at it again, and I go in there and turn it off whenever I hear it but I'm not there all the time. So I know this song well. It is burned into my memory.  
  
Yet.there's something weird about it playing above me. Something off.  
  
Chickens they come, they go.  
  
Wait. . . chickens? That's not the same song. One of the reasons I hate that song so much is that its phrase is "Bitches they come they go". Every other word is Bitch. I hate that word, I'm not opposed to swearing in general but Bitch is so degrading, I hardly ever use it. So this isn't the same song. . . but. . .  
  
First of all you don't know Marshall  
  
That's in the song. And the voice.that is definitely that guys voice. That voice grates on my every nerve. I know that voice. And the lyrics. . .sit your drunk ass on the runway, ohhh. . .that stuff about girls always lying, that's all in there. But why the hell is the song got Chickens instead of Bitches?  
  
This doesn't make any sense!  
  
My name is Superman.I'm here to rescue you.  
  
Defiantly the same song, but with 'chicken' instead of 'bitch'. I actually prefer this, I could almost understand it.its almost poetic now. It's just about relationships being hard, people thinking they love each other when they don't. I wouldn't mind if Chicken and Pie blasted this, maybe Chicken would get a kick out of it.  
  
I think I love you baby.  
  
Something in the sky catches my attention. It's a moving light.a very tiny and hard to see moving light. It's night here, wherever we are, but the stars are hard to see still because there is a glow from the light of all the other building around us. I've rarely been in a city, so I guess all this light is commonplace. I thought the moving light was a star, it looks like a star, but they don't move. How strange.  
  
It also smells strange. Actually the air itself seems a little weak. I'm not in danger of chocking, but its noticeable.  
  
I think I love you too.  
  
William stands up while still reading his newspaper. He's reading the inside pages, so I look at the page facing me.  
  
"Bush Again Accuses Iran and Syria of Harboring Terrorists"  
  
The paper is titled The New York Times.  
  
Wow, again? I thought we went to war over that shit ten times already, how could anything be left? In fact I thought Syria had changed its name to something else now. I don't even know who Bush is, the Secretary of War I suppose. I don't keep up on things like that, what with concentrating on avenging my uncle and all. Which I would think would be on Williams' mind more than this article.  
  
The picture is in color, but not the sharp glossy technique that most papers have. I don't read the New York Times though, so maybe it just uses an old style of printing. Its kind of a strange format for a newspaper too, very big when it open up. Some companies are like that, linking people to tradition and all.  
  
I know I love you baby.  
  
By now Donatello has crept cautiously back to where William and I are standing. Donatello has a strange look on his face. He stares in wonderment all around us, and glances at the paper William is reading.  
  
"We're in big trouble", he tells me.  
  
Chick you make me hurl! 


	14. Michelangelo

Michelangelo's Section of the Saga of the Next Generation by Red Turtle  
  
Okay, before we begin, I strongly suggest you all take your bathroom break, get some food, some drink (coffee goes well with this story, or a good soda), make sure your nice and comfortable because this part is eighteen pages long and its goood.  
  
Here we go, long anticipated section from Mikey himself. I intend for this to be one of the best Michealangelo stories every written, and it has a lot going on in it. Now he's over fifty years old, so in the mist of what going on there's going to be flashbacks, and sometimes there's going to be flashbacks with in the flashbacks, so even as those heavy questions get answered there is potential for things to get confusing. I went over it many times trying to find the best lay-out and make everything make sense, but with fifty years of life experiences to catch up on and then the actual events going on currently its going to be long. I divided it into parts to make it more reader friendly.  
  
I don't think I have to tell you all that I eagerly await word on how I did here with him, and their lives in general. I never really wrote a lot on Mike, so this is kind of different.  
  
Michelangelo:  
  
PART I:  
  
"Michelangelo!"  
  
I hear the voice, but its not enough to rouse me from my dreams. I'm very attached to my dreams. Very attached. The voice is urgent, but not "house on fire" urgent, so I choose to stay asleep.  
  
"Michelangelo!"  
  
Still asleep. They'll go away eventually.  
  
"Michelangelo!"  
  
. . .  
  
"Michelangelo!"  
  
Shit. They're not leaving. What a bad day. Bad luck day. Fuck a duck luck, as Darin would say. Actually, were he here he would say that so far this day sucks fucked duck.  
  
Oh, God! Why did I have to think of him? This bad, shitty, fucking day.  
  
"Michelangelo!"  
  
Again with the calling. The relentless calling. I can't wake up this way. I need to wake up on my own terms, and then I can maybe deal with the day.  
  
But it's too late. Now it's hard to keep my eyes closed, although I sense the brightness in the room, and I don't want to open them to that much light.  
  
Where am I, anyway? Lets see, yesterday, if I got this right, I was doing pretty well. Pretty darn good. I'd cleaned up my apartment. I wrote a letter for Jellybean congratulating him on turning thirteen, it was a few months ago but I'm determined to give him this letter somehow. It was night then, and I was getting ready for bed. I brushed my teeth in the bathroom and made the mistake of looking at the toilet. Then it was over, the grief hit me like a ton of bricks. For some reason, this toilet makes me think of Donnie. I look at it sometimes and just like that, I'm collapsing on the floor, crying, screaming, hitting anything in the area, and finally puking my guts out. It happens so much I started keeping food, beer and a pillow over here so I can feed myself and everything. I don't understand it, Donnie's never even been in this bathroom, but its like his ghost is haunting it or something, I see him all shot up like on the TV and I just go to pieces. I guess I really am fucked up.  
  
Anyway, the only way I can pull out of something like that is to drink a lot of beer. It also gives me something to throw up later. So instead of going to bed sober like a hero, which I almost did, and would have with out having drunk anything all day, I ended up spending the night coiled next to the toilet downing eight packs (six packs went out about twenty years ago).  
  
Probably I am in the bathroom still. I gingerly reach out with my hand and feel the cold linoleum under me, and the pillow under my head, and I reach up and follow the curve of the porcelain toilet to confirm this.  
  
"Michelangelo! Are you awake?"  
  
Now I know why I started thinking of Darin. This is Simon calling to me, Darin's brother Simon, I am sure of it. He has a very distinctive way of talking, an Iranian accent but also the accent of autism. What the hell is Simon doing here?  
  
I hate this fog of not knowing what's going on around me. That's what I miss most, I feel like I'm not even alive anymore. But, in the fog, I don't feel the pain so much, and the pain of life is so unbearable. Sometimes I try and get outside and experience something, just walk around in the sun. It feels good at the time, but it doesn't last. Eventually my pain swallows me back up again. I know everyone else matured beyond this, only I am left behind in this state, and that hurts me too.  
  
Now the calling is accompanied by shaking. I hate shaking. It's such an awful way to wake up. I summon all my strength to be able to growl, "Go Away!"  
  
"Michelangelo. You are a warrior. We need you." Simon responds.  
  
Warrior. Where the fuck has this guy been? I'm not a warrior. Haven't been for about thirty years. But Simon is strange, and he probably doesn't realize this.  
  
"You want Raphael or Leonardo. They're in England or something. I'll give you their number", I mumbled, thinking I'll just write down any fucking number and get him out of the house. How the fuck did he get in here, anyway? I have security, don't I? Maybe I don't, next time I really wake up and feel like thinking I should go find that out.  
  
"No, Michelangelo, they are dead. It must be you who comes with us. Your whole species faces genocide, we must save them", an unknown voice tells me. It's very strange, sort of musical.  
  
(If this technology allowed, his voice would be typed in TimeScrMed, or Grant's hand, or some such fancy type.)  
  
Strangely, this discordant news given by the melodic voice doesn't shock or sadden me. A sort of numbness spreads through my veins, but I'm not sure that's not the result of something I unknowingly took last night just hitting me now.  
  
PART II:  
  
I suppose you all are just dying to know how I ended up this way. Well, I could go on and on about the horrible tragedy that changed my life. I know people just love stories about drama and angst, people want death and misery, and I have just the story to fulfill all those desires. But there's more to me than that, at least there was. So before you learn that story, you're going to sit through another story, a short happy story.  
  
When I was twelve years old Splinter brought home a ton of art supplies he had found in an abandoned apartment somewhere while looking for food (you wouldn't believe what people might leave behind in their houses). This was really high-quality stuff, watercolors, oil paint, some canvases, drafting pencils and erasers, fancy pens and markers and some ink, brushes, little palettes, special cleaning solutions and mixes for the paints to make them last longer, all kinds of little tools you would never imagine you needed to paint until you read the labels and realized what they did and then you couldn't imagine painting with out them. Since I was the most artistically inclined of my siblings I inherited most of the bounty. Raphael and Leonardo occasionally dabbled with the paint. Donatello never really touched it beyond reading all the boxes and labels, and performing some experiments with additives and paint techniques. It seemed that Splinter always found something like this for each of us from time to time, something precious and valuable to us that just arrived with out the expectation of a birthday or Christmas. Leonardo would get weapons, martial art books and incense. Raphael got a lot of music and movies, Donatello got all books and anything involving wires and computer chips, and I got art and poetry. Splinter saw that glimpse of potential in me and nourished it with a vengeance. I half suspected he had bought these supplies himself and just disguised it as having found them, but they were dusty and obviously used.  
  
These art supplies fueled my muse for years afterwards. I painted my half of the bedroom with all kinds of murals, mostly fairies, elves, dragons, knights and even unicorns, because at the time I was really into Dungeons and Dragons, which Donatello and I played obsessively with each other. Soon I expanded beyond my room to the kitchen, where I was allowed to depict fruit, eggs, herbs, bread, milk, and of course all kinds of pizza. From there it spread to tables, chairs, bookcases, shelves, and the refrigerator, TV, radio, and microwave. I remember a particularly well- done Pac Man scene on one of the doors. I painted Christmas ornaments for the tree. In fact I just painted the tree on the wall one year, instead of trying to piece our old plastic one together. I literally painted Easter eggs. When Splinter died I painted a tribute to him and placed it in his coffin. I was quite the painter, and that in turn made me a better poet, because my own art inspired me. By the time we met April I was good enough for her to publish some of my work. It was hard, because I couldn't use any poems mentioning my mutant state, but the cold detachment from humanity seemed to really resonate with people anyway. I wasn't anything huge, nowhere near the amount of money Donatello was making by the time we were twenty-one, but I was proud to have contributed something to the world. Leo and Raph never actually earned income at anything, we all lived off Donatello.  
  
So there you have it. Thing weren't always so miserable, but things do change. If you handed me some paint now you'd be lucky if I didn't drink it.  
  
PART III:  
  
At the time, back when I was in my teens, I remember life passing so slowly. Towards the end of my teens was when all the changes happened. First Splinter died, shortly after our nineteenth birthday. That was the kind of change we were expecting to happen, he had been sick the last year, and he was old. Still it hurt of course. But being prepared helped me deal with it, and I had my brothers to depend on.  
  
Even before Splinters death changes were happening in the country in terms of the mutant status. As we grew older there seemed to be more and more encounters between humans and mutants, and gradually they were becoming a part of society whether humans liked it or not. New York already had enough immigration and cultures in it that a few more species wasn't going to matter.  
  
Canada was the first country to break the ice as far as allowing mutants full citizen status; they did this three days after Splinters death. We watched the debates on this raging every day, and with in a month were convinced to move there. If anything our country was getting more divided against mutants, and we wanted to move from our lair anyway. Plus Canada mostly spoke English, and was relatively close by, so April and Casey could visit. But what really got us was the interview with six young mutant turtles recently moved there from Iran. They had applied for asylum and received it, and a few Talk shows interviewed them. One of them was a girl. That cinched the deal.  
  
The immigration authority for Canada was still in an experimental phase, so there was a period of processing, but we were accepted and three months later settled into a sort of half way house. Donatello already had been granted a scholarship to attend a university.  
  
I actually don't remember much of that time. Everything was so new and special when you experienced it as a "normal" person. Just going into a bar and having a drink, that was great. I abandoned the ninja masks and evolved into wearing cloaks and shoes or boots, especially in winter, not as a disguise but because now there were stores selling tailored clothes for mutants, and it was encouraged to be more part of society. Shoes I suddenly couldn't imagine how we grew up with out them. We had toughened our feet sufficiently in New Yorks sewers and rooftops that it was possible, and lots of other mutants found the idea strange and wouldn't wear them. Leo in fact took a while to try it out, but then he adapted quickly, choosing to think of them as armor for his feet. He kept wearing ninja garb.  
  
At first we were very poor, we were provided with the housing and standard food but not tons of spending money, and Canada hadn't figured out how to enter us all in the job market yet, so we actually spent a lot of time watching TV. We couldn't even go look for the other turtles; we had to stay at the house as part of our program. It was sort of a mutant ghetto, but we felt safe, we had no trouble from humans at all.  
  
Things picked up by the time we were twenty-one. Donatello's abilities were quickly recognized by the right people, and soon he was developing and researching to his heart content, and being paid mad for it. He bought us a house, and we found that free life was really, really great.  
  
The sharpest change came at twenty-three. We finally met those other mutant turtles that had inspired us so long ago. And that girl was just as beautiful in real life. Raphael met one of them while he and Casey were fishing at over in a mutant-segregated part of the Georgian Bay, and of course they wanted to combine our families. They had ditched the halfway house program and had been all living in this old beat up pick up truck, and eating fish or whatever they caught hunting, so moving to the city was quite an adventure for them. Don wasn't a total millionaire (yet), so all he could do was rent them a loft space to live in, in one of the poorer areas of town, but it was their first real home and they loved it, and it allowed us to all visit each other.  
  
Their names were Nikki, Darin, Jory, Tory, Simon and Molly. Before Canada they had lived all their lives in the city of Teheran in Iran. Unlike us, they're father was human and they had been born in their state, so they were raised differently. They had hung out with the students and youth there as if they were human, joined in many of the struggles the humans did. It seemed like Iran was always going through some turmoil, and the US stopped trying to install dictators after the Bloody eclipse fiasco of 2008 (which they hinted they had participated in). I fondly called them my Iranian comrades, because of that, it was a phrase I picked up from some movie. But a religious fraction was gaining power right now, and they help a very hard line on mutants, so it was decided they should leave. They spoke Farsi but had been speaking English too for years, but they didn't get a lot of popular American phrases and stuff. Darin made himself memorable to me by coining up tons of colorful rhyming English phrases, not the least of which was the fucked duck luck thing. He said English was so much better than Farsi for that. Me, in the months that I knew them, close as I was, I only learned one word in Farsi: aziz. It means "beloved". I wrote it by hand on Molly's tombstone, adding a picture of a heart.  
  
Simon and Molly were our age; the others were all older, Jory and Tory by one year, Darin by two, and Nikki by three. We all found something in them. Nikki and Leo hung out a lot and debated ideology of warriors (like reading Sun Tzu's Art of War). Raph had fun with the twins Jory and Tory, they played pranks on each other and traded insults to sharpen their wit, and of course sometimes they fought too, which I thought was the true test of friendship. Donatello and Simon practically merged into one being. Simon is autistic, which meant that he shared Donatello's genius abilities, but he was in a way more developmentally retarded. He was actually a lot like Donatello himself had been when we were all younger, he barely talked, wasn't social and viewed the world way differently then we did. Me, I had Darin as a best friend and Molly as a girlfriend, almost a wife.  
  
Those times.I was so alive back then. These guys were my best buds ever, all of them except for Simon. Simon bonded only with Donatello. But the others, they all loved me and I loved them. I loved them with out end. I was so young, and I put my whole life in them.  
  
When we were first getting to know each other, we invited them to our house for dinner, which was of course pizza. We sprang for the best Pizza we knew of, the best toppings, and soda, because pizza is always better with soda. This was incredibly fun, because they had never had pizza before. The twins remembered something about a Pizza Hut back in Teheran, but they had never gone in and didn't really understand what a pizza was, and it didn't translate well into Farsi. It was so great, watching them experience their first pizza, I guess I felt as if I had a child, and was living vicariously through them, you know, feeling that sense of pride as their eyes lit up from the taste, and they played with the stretchy cheese and experimented with the toppings.  
  
Two days later they had us over for dinner. They served us pizza too, but it was different, it was Iranian style, which was frozen pizzas heated over an open fire (Donatello later taught them how to use the oven), served with olives and something called pickled cucumbers, which, they insisted, was not the same as pickles, and indeed they didn't taste like any pickles I've ever had. They had Coke Cola but they also served us Basil soda, which was an incredible strange banana-tasting liquid full of soaked basil seeds, which I thought looked an awful lot like tadpoles. They explained that the Basil drink was actually from an Indian store they had found and they wanted us to all try it, so it was new to them as well. I was very touched by their meal; it had so much of their hearts in it, that's what won my own heart over to them. I loved them all after that. I know its weird or immature or whatever, but pizza forms powerful bonds for me, and I grow attached to memories that involve it.  
  
PART IV:  
  
After that we went out every day together, at least me, Molly, Jory, Tory and Darin. We went to bars and drank, swore, brawled, flirted, played cards and darts until three in the mourning or so, then we went to other places, diving in the lakes, hiding in the woods, staring at the stars, and if I was lucky the night ended with me sleeping with Molly at their place, or if I was really lucky in the woods.  
  
Maybe half the time Raphael would join us; he enjoyed all those activities as well, including sleeping with Molly. That girl was all of our first loves, I think. Even Leo slept with her a couple times, although he was terribly ashamed of it afterwards and would get all self-beating about it. Only Donatello didn't ever touch her, of this I am sure, because he was quite the virgin when we were younger. It was funny actually, he only started having sex fourteen years ago and it was like a dam broke, he had so many girls and kids in so short of a time it was hysterical.  
  
Sometimes Leo joined us, but that wasn't really his scene and I think he only went through the motions when he wanted a shot at Molly. Nikki also came along from time to time, but usually he was working at a mechanic shop, trying to make the family self-sufficient and all, and then he preferred to stay at home and rest. He reminded me of Leo in his seriousness and determination to take care of his family, but he could drink, swear and fight like nothing else. He and Donatello were the only ones with a job, even though we were officially citizens, we were not fully entered into the job market because there were still issues between humans and mutants, for instance we could not be short-order cooks because there was a concern that we would contaminate food and stuff like that. I earned a little money with my writing, later Darin helped me with some poems. I have those somewhere.  
  
Simon and Donatello never came with us, not once. Those two had their own form of fun.  
  
Which is how Simon ended up being the only one left alive from that crew.  
  
I ended up being left alive because at the time I had stopped spending the night at their house.  
  
PART V:  
  
See, I made the mistake one mourning of waking up next to Molly and almost proposing to her right then. I usually feel very amorous in the mourning, especially after a night like that. I turned and gave her my best 'I love you' eyes. But she was looking at me too, in a different way, an important- we-have-to-talk way, and I made the really bad mistake of asking her what was on her mind, thinking that that was what good lovers did.  
  
"Mikey, I don't think we should do this anymore."  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"You know, silly, this", she elaborated with a gesture I didn't need. I was just playing dumb to buy myself time to work this out in a favorable way. God, I loved her accent, and her mannerism. I loved her so much.  
  
"But, uh, why?" I asked foolishly, "Don't you, uh, like it?"  
  
"Yes, of course I do", she purred, "But, I don't think it is right. See, I think I maybe love your brother, and this with you is then wrong."  
  
"My brother? Raphael?" I stammered, thinking it was Raph. Always it was Raph.  
  
"No, not that one. He's too rough", she almost giggled, "Donatello."  
  
"Donatello?" I gasped. I hadn't seen that coming. She doesn't even talk to him, and he's never so much as looked at her, so much as I knew. In fact at the time I had suspected he might be gay, and his not sleeping with her sort of confirmed that. I wondered if I suggested that it would end her little fantasy of him.  
  
"Yes, Donatello", she purred again.  
  
I just sat there in shock. Here I was about to propose and now I'm losing her forever.  
  
"Oh, I am sorry, Mikey, I don't mean to be rude", She apologized, taking my hands. She almost kissed them but held back.  
  
"But why? I mean, has he, uh, expressed interest in you? Because I have", I stated emphatically, and the proof was visible under the covers.  
  
She touched my chest lightly, sort of a teasing push.  
  
"I know you have, silly", she giggles, "No, he don't even barely talk to me, but he talk to my brother, and I look like him, right?"  
  
This was truer than I was ever comfortable with. Her and Simon were fraternal twins and somehow both got the same color green skin, the same black eyes and long black hair that neither would cut even thought everyone teased them all the time about looking like each other. The hair came from their father, who was actually human, and their mother was a mutant turtle like us. Darin also has hair, his is almost shoulder length and kept in dreads, and it is a dark brown rather than black. The other three were as bald as we were. Don and I later had some kids with human, but none of them ended up with hair. I guess that's genetics for you.  
  
"But, why would you want to." I trailed off. I was going to say, Why would you want to throw away our relationship when I realized obviously it wasn't even a relationship to her, and that would almost be whiny which I didn't want. I almost wanted to throw in that maybe he was, you know, having relations with Simon, but decided that would be crude and would not work out in my favor.  
  
"I don't know, I guess it is because he don't talk to me. He the only one I don't have sleep with. Its that saying, the grass is always greener on the other side, right?" she paused, giggling a little, "I guess in this case it is the turtle is greener on the other side."  
  
"I guess", I replied, trying to hide my bitterness. That ancient Beatles song came to me, 'hey, you got to hide your love away'.  
  
I wished with all my heart that I had taken the time to get to know her before having sex. It would have been the right way to start a real relationship, maybe if I hadn't just hopped in bed with her she would be thinking about me the way she's thinking about Donatello. But I was young and foolish. Everyone makes huge mistakes like that when they're young.  
  
She granted me a last kiss, but kept her word, there was no more sleeping with her, and certainly no proposal. But I thought I could bide my time. She and I seemed so right together, my heart told me that it would happen, if not now then in the future, she would get over Donnie someday, and I would then tell her how I felt and I would date her right and not sleep with her for months, until we were sure we loved each other, and then she would be my wife.  
  
I was so sure that was going to happen. And maybe it would have, its certainly possible that she would have grown to love me in the future, if a car wreck hadn't taken her life three weeks later. Her and all her brothers but Simon.  
  
PART VI:  
  
Would you like to hear about that? About how the news hit me like a kick in the groin, effectively crippling me for the rest of my life? Well, okay, I'll tell you, even though it hurts. But we're going to get another one of my happy stories first, and this one no one knows but me. My son and girlfriend were there, but my girlfriend didn't care and my son was too little too remember.  
  
First of all, everybody assumes that I am a horrible father. And I never bother to correct them, I mean, overall I am pretty bad, when I think about it, but damn it I try, which is more than some fathers do, and I would never beat them or hurt them. Anyway, when Mickey was born, his mother calls me up to tell me and says I have to name him. She woke me up, and I didn't know what to say, so I was sort of joking and I said "Michelob", because that was the beer in front of me, and I thought that was kind of an interesting name. And he could be Mickey for short, which is like Mikey, so we have that father-son connection there. But I didn't know she was actually going to put it on the birth certificate. I mean, shit, he's her son too; she could have given him a better name. But whatever, I ended up with a son named after a beer.  
  
I was halfway determined to be a really good father to Mickey and sort of redeem myself for being a complete failure with Jellybean. He was only four at the time, but I knew I had already failed with him, and I say halfway determined because, when you're me, you never end up fully committing to anything no matter how much you want to.  
  
So, even though this girl and I no longer liked each other, I started coming over every day, at least for a few hours, baby-sitting and stuff. Mickey really seemed to like me, and he looked a lot more like me than her. She was mixed French and Black, with curly red hair she had fried in attempts to make it straight, and obviously she was human. He kind of inherited her eyes, bright brown ones with lashes although he had no other hair. He and Jellybean both had a different kind of skin than me, it was much smoother. Other than the lashes and skin texture there was no indication he was part human, that's the way it seemed to be with most of our kids, the mutagen part seemed to be dominant. I wonder, if they have kids with human, what they will be like. But that's still in the distant future.  
  
There I was, changing the kid's diapers, feeding him, being responsible. At first she was kind of uncomfortable about it, but then she fell into a routine, I would show up and she would get dressed to go out. I don't think she had a job, she probably didn't think she could find any other baby sitter and I didn't show up 9-5, so I think she was prostituting. It's the only thing that would make sense, and her outfits certainly contributed to the theory.  
  
I was responsible enough to not drink while babysitting, but once I left all bets were off. For some reason, when Mickey was about four months old, I went on some kind of binge. Like the visions of Donatello in the bathroom, sometimes these things just come over me, and I can't stop them, and all I can do is drink and wait. This particular binge lasted somewhere between five days and two weeks, after much investigation I haven't been able to narrow it down any further. When I was conscious enough to return to my ex-girlfriends house and start babysitting again, I found the place abandoned. Clothes all over the floor, cupboard ransacked, dishes piled in the sink, money and jewelry gone, mice gathered in a corner of the kitchen trying to figure out if they had enough numbers to go after me, and in the little crib in the living room was my son Mickey. He didn't look too bad off; I think she couldn't have been gone more than two days. He was weak, dehydrated and hungry, and couldn't even cry, but he was still alive, so it couldn't have been too long. She must have thought I would be coming by soon, or else someone would. I'm assuming that she wasn't totally leaving him to die, but then she seemed to have had a lot on her mind.  
  
Some people might have taken this as a doorway to opportunity, that this would open the sense of responsibility within me, that I would take Mickey and right then and there start a new life, no drinking, no drugs, just me and my son. That didn't happen. But I wish someone would be proud of what I did do. I bundled him up and carried him all the way to my brothers' house, at this time a big mansion outside of town where they were all living together and collectively raising all their kids. They already had Jellybean whose mother had abandoned him pretty much from the hospital. Plus Donatello had twins a year earlier that would be close to Mickey's age, and Raphael just had another baby a few months ago, and Leo had an egg that was due to hatch in a few weeks. So, Mickey would have lots of cousins his age to play with and lots of competent adults to watch over and love him.  
  
I wished I could move in too, and see him everyday, but I knew myself. And so did my brothers. I was allowed to visit their home occasionally but it had been made clear I could not live there until I had been sober for a year, and that was not a goal I was able to reach. They would visit me at least once a month, and they tried to make these visits friendly, but it was so hard for them, I know, to not say anything about how I was destroying everything, how it hurt for them to have lost me this way. When we were younger, Raphael had been the most likely candidate to end up this way, but he found a girlfriend (who didn't die) and that saved him. Now he's as stable and disciplined as Leo. Love can do that to you, save or destroy you.  
  
When I showed up at their door with Mickey, I wanted to explain to them that I could still be a decent guy, that, look, I saved my son and brought him here because I care about him. But I couldn't bring myself to say anything. Donatello's wife at the time, a ¾ human, ¼ turtle hybrid, answered the door. Her name was Connie, and she looked much more human than turtle. In fact she didn't look like a turtle at all, she really looked like a five-five tall three-fingered 250 lb black women with a strange hump on her back that on closure inspection would turn out to be a shell. I had only talked to Connie once before, when I came to see Chicken and Pie after they had been born. She said she wished that they had hair, because she had really been looking forward to brushing and braiding hair as part of the child-rearing process. I said maybe she would have more kids, and she looked really doubtful. So I didn't have much to go on for conversation with her.  
  
"Are my brothers home?" I asked tentatively.  
  
She almost rolled her eyes, and turned back to the house to yell for Donatello.  
  
Meanwhile Chicken and Pie, already walking, had approached the door and stared at me. Soon other children began to gather, led by Leo's son Christopher. Christopher was so cute. He was always my favorite nephew, he had this innocence about him that he kept through his teenage years, he always looked like he was in the wrong path, like he was trying to be his father but didn't have the personality for it. Here he was nine or ten years old, and when he saw me he waved happily and ran to get Jellybean, thinking I was here to see him. I actually didn't want see Jellybean, I hated seeing Jellybean because that kid didn't like me. True enough, he returned with four year old Jellybean limp in his arms, staring at me dully.  
  
"What's that?" Raphael's son Julian asked me. He was nine then.  
  
"This is my son Mickey", I told him proudly.  
  
Julian was not impressed.  
  
"Another baby?" he sighed wearily.  
  
I was sort of shocked by how different our generations were. When I was nine, a baby would have been fantastic. At the very least, it would have assured me that our unique variation of our species would not die out, which after I learned about puberty I was terrified that was going to happen. But here Julian was surrounded by siblings and cousins, and seemed to resent it all.  
  
Finally Donatello came to the door and his wife started shooing all the children away from the room. His eyes automatically drew to the little bundle in my arms.  
  
"Another abandoned kid?" he inquired.  
  
That killed whatever inside of me thought that maybe I could go clean and live here, or at least explain to them the situation, that I tried so hard with this one.  
  
"Yeah. His name is, uh, it's Michelob."  
  
He reached out to take him and I handed him over.  
  
"What happened?" he asked a little gentler than before. He was doing a quick pulse check and eye check and stuff.  
  
"Um.I don't know, exactly. I visit, you know, sort of regularly, and today I found him like this, alone, and I think she, you know, bugged out."  
  
"I see."  
  
After a minute of silence, I felt compelled to go on.  
  
"I, uh, you guys can take care of him, right?"  
  
"Yes, Mikey, we'll take care of him", he sighed.  
  
"Good, cause I."  
  
I didn't finish. My voice started breaking up, and it was too embarrassing to keep talking.  
  
He transferred Mickey to one arm, and with the other he gave me an affectionate hug.  
  
"Mikey, you're my brother and I love you", he whispered.  
  
"I know. I'm sorry", I told him, and then left before he had me breaking down right there.  
  
I drank a lot of beer that night.  
  
PART VII:  
  
Guess that wasn't so happy after all. Sorry. I don't really have happy times after they all died. They took all the happy times with them.  
  
They dropped me off that night, around 1 in the mourning. We started ending our parties earlier after Molly and mine discussion, you know it was just awkward to sleep at their house or romp naked through the forest (we're always naked, but with Molly I really felt naked). Nikki was there with them, also Darin's new human girlfriend, Jenni. Raph and Leo hadn't gone out that night. Just me.  
  
I worried about them driving home. All of them would drink at the bars, usually Darin or one of the twins would drive, and they were speeders. On more than one occasion we came too close for comfort to other cars, trucks, trees, red lights and bridges, but they always stopped or swerved just in time. I didn't know how to express my concern, their excitement at the close calls was contagious, and besides I was drinking too.  
  
But based on what I learned happened, I don't know that being sober would have helped them any. It might have made it worse; they were probably better off being a little buzzed.  
  
Apparently some kind of freak accident where some construction equipment fell off a bridge.fell off a bridge on them, and to finish the deal a truck behind them that couldn't stop in time. Freak accidents for freak turtles. Not even our shells could do shit about that kind of misfortune. And of course poor Jenni didn't even have that.  
  
I knew something bad had happened as soon as I woke up. I had this creepy feeling, my blood wouldn't go through my veins right. And then there was Raphael knocking on the door.  
  
"What?" I called out.  
  
He came in, closing the door behind him quickly, but not quick enough. Through that brief crack I heard an awful sound. I didn't know right away what it was, I thought a dog or something. Something that wasn't supposed to be here.  
  
Then there was Raphael's look. Our lives have been temperamental. We have cried a lot through out childhood, and being a teenage mutant ninja turtle really wrecks havoc on your hormones, let me tell you. But never had a seen a look of such agony, and the worse part was that I knew instantly the look was not about him, it was about me. I knew then it had to be Molly or Darin at least, and then my mind made the further leap that, if it was Molly or Darin, one of the others would have come. The fact that Raphael was here meant.  
  
"Mike, buddy, I'm sorry I got to tell you this."  
  
I waited. He sat down at my bed.  
  
"There was an accident. Everyone in the car last night died."  
  
And that was it. I shared with you all the worst thing to ever happen to me.  
  
I made them take me to the accident site. I wouldn't believe they were dead until I saw that. Simon came too; it was he who was making those awful sounds in the mourning, not a dog howling but him crying. Donatello focused on helping him. Leo and Raph helped me. I know they were all upset at the loss, but none felt it so deeply as I did. Donatello, in fact, surprised me with how emphatic he was, that all his grief around this seemed to be reflecting from Simon or me. He didn't seem to have any of his own. I always wondered if Molly had ever told him how she felt, I doubt it because I'm sure that kind of revelation would have put something more in his heart for her. But with him, especially when we were younger, it was hard to tell.  
  
The plan inside me had been to go there and say, "Look, there's nothing here. Nothing happened. Let's go call them and they can apologize for worrying us so much". That was really my plan. It was dependent on the police and ambulance or whatever having cleaned the place up, leaving nothing behind to so much as hint at the atrocity that now marked this road.  
  
That plan fell apart before I even got out of the car. The truck they died in had been removed, but evidence of a horrible crash still scarred the bridge in question. Small pieces of metal and glass debris littered the area. There was even what looked like blood smeared on the ground, as if to really let me know that they were dead. The construction equipment was gone, and tarps and markers covered the area they were working on, above the bridge.  
  
So, that plan went out the window. Instead I formed a new plan, which was, given the understanding that some divine fate wanted me to live yet did not want to give me anything to live for, I would go through life on the bare minimum of existence. I would enter a form of hibernation until something drastically changed, new friends or loves came forward that could bring me back to the profusion of intense feelings I had prior to this day. To achieve the desired hibernating state, a lot of beer was required.  
  
I am still in that state today, and I intend to never leave.  
  
PART VIII:  
  
"Did you hear us, Michelangelo?" Simon asked me when I hadn't responded to him.  
  
"Yes", I answered slowly, "But I still can't help you."  
  
I reached around the toilet for an unopened beer can, but I was shit out of luck. I must have gone through them all already. I hadn't actually opened my eyes yet, I was afraid to face Simon and whoever had accompanied him. But, I guess I'll have to, because this day isn't ending any time soon.  
  
So here it goes. Eyes opening slowly, gently, easy now.not too much light. I look down to the floor first so the light won't be right on me. It takes a minute, it seems really slow to me. The initial pain wears off and things come into focus. But when I finally look up at Simon and his friend, I think I must have done something really wrong last night. This is a fucking dream. This is going to be the mother of all dreams. I'm going to write a poem about this shit.  
  
I haven't seen Simon since Donnie's funeral, but he looks the same as ever. Still has the ridiculously long hair, of course now there's no Molly to confuse him with. I actually forget sometimes how much he looked like her, or like all of them, really. I hate looking at him, because there is a dark side of me that wishes he had died instead of all of them.  
  
But that's not the shit. The shit is standing next to him. It's a big-ass horse, with wings and a lizard tail, and its head is not a quite a horse head, its an alligator, but with a mane and almost a horse shape. And it talks. I mean, I know I don't have the right to say anything; me being a five-foot talking turtle, but still.  
  
"Michelangelo, you must come with us. They will be here soon to murder you. We must save your people", the horse tells me.  
  
"I'm sorry.what the fuck are you?", I inquire bluntly.  
  
The horse does a strange movement, sort of a roll of the eyes and a sigh, but alligator/horse heads don't do that the same way that humans do.  
  
"My name is Endram`e. I am.hmmm.how to explain simply, I am your brothers step son, sort of."  
  
"Which brother?" I asked incredulously.  
  
Another sigh-eye-roll motion.  
  
"Donatello. Were any of your other brothers mating with dragons?"  
  
"I didn't know he was", I explained, although, really, of all of them Donatello was most likely to do something like that. And I could never keep up with all his relations or kids.  
  
"He had four children with my mother", Endram`e explains, "And we might be able to save them if we hurry. We were too late for Raphael or Leo, or the others. I am sorry, my powers are great but I can not be everywhere at once."  
  
"Others?" I asked. Now a cold rush replaces that numbness. How much of my family was lost? How could I have fucked up so badly as to not know what had happened to them all. I hope my children are okay. I hope Chris is okay.  
  
"Please, get on my back and allow me to take you away from here. We will try to explain later, we must leave now", Endram`e says.  
  
Simon gestures for me to get on first. I think he doesn't trust I will do it, but I do. I want to ask about saving my kids, I suddenly feel a rush of paternalness.  
  
As soon as I have successfully mounted the horse-dragon (the wings got in the way the first time), Simon gets on behind me and Endram`e takes off, galloping into my wall and then.  
  
PART IX:  
  
Then we enter a different area entirely. We are in a cavern. It looks like a huge hole dug in the ground, but there are indications that it is more than a hole, it is a home for someone. Pictures decorate the sides, for one, painted on as I had once done to our own home in my youth. And there is light, from where I am not sure but it is beyond sunlight.  
  
I am so taken with the pleasant atmosphere of the place that I at first don't realize that it has obviously been attacked. I am looking upwards, trying to find the light source, so I'm not looking at the ground where all the evidence was. Upwards all I found out of the ordinary was a crumbled and charred section of ceiling.  
  
"We're too late", Simon whispers behind me.  
  
Then I look down and I see we are too late. Much too late. Everything in the room is destroyed. A lot of blood covers the floor and three small bodies lay still there. I did not rejoin reality to see this.  
  
"No, one of them still lives", Endram`e exclaims, and trots over to its side.  
  
Simon and I hop off, and almost instantly I recall my first aid training. I used to be really good at bandaging up my brothers wounds, and I even performed surgery, I removed a bad tooth from Raphael and I removed a bullet from Leo. I fixed Raphael's broken wrist once. Donatello didn't get hurt nearly as often as they did. I think the most I ever did for him was feeding him when he was sick. Remembering this I start to feel as if I am fifteen again.  
  
I quickly ascertain that it is indeed alive, and kneel to investigate. It has a shell and three fingers, evidence of my brother. The rest is more like the horse, alligator like. The skin is rougher than mine, it has sharp scales. It has wings and a tail sticking out from the shell, just like Endram`e.  
  
All of a sudden I am alone with this injured child, Donatello's child. My brother is dead but his child is here, and that does something to me. He has other children, but they never affected me like this, maybe because I never saw them so wounded. The realization reaches out and drags that beautiful ninja part of me hiding in hibernation into the open, and pushes the other part away. I am awake. I am alive. Mentally, I have returned. My heart practically leaps out of my chest yelling, "This one! This one here! Do it for this one! Live!"  
  
I touch it to be sure. Yes, it is alive. It groans and writhes a little under my hand, probably not knowing what is going on and thinking I am attacking it. It is only a baby, probably about the age of my youngest son.  
  
"Shh. I'm not here to hurt you", I tell it soothingly, checking its vital signs as gently as I can. I can't tell if it's a boy or girl, I'll figure it out eventually.  
  
It coughs faintly, takes a deep breathe, and screams, "Momma! Momma!"  
  
This tears at my heart, exactly the kind of thing I was not living for, but it doesn't pull me back under. No, I can do this. I am Michelangelo the Ninja Turtle who must save his brothers child.  
  
I pick it up and try to comfort it physically, but it writhes too much for that to help. It doesn't seem hurt too bad, by the way it's moving. One claw scratches my arm. Some of that is trembling, I don't think its totally in control of its body. It has a deep cut on its neck, probably it had been assumed to be dead and left. It doesn't hold its head up well, and I gently support it even as it cries in my ears. Simon hands me some cloth that looks clean, and I use it to stop the bleeding. Appling pressure to its neck is hard, because I don't want to choke it, but judging from the unabated wailing that is not a danger.  
  
I try to sing to it to calm it down. I sing in Japanese, because I'm sort of embarrassed to sing in English. I sing something Master Splinter used to sing to us when we were little. I know that alone won't be enough, this kid has been through hell.  
  
It seems like an agonizingly slow time, and yet almost no time at all. All of a sudden it is quiet. I think I might have even been asleep or something, the next thing I know I have stopped singing and the kid stopped crying. For the first time I am conscious of Endram`e standing next to me, trying to nuzzle the child. Simon is not there at first, but he arrives with warm, wet cloth, which we use to clean the wound and rest of the body so we can check for other injuries. There are no others. The cloth also serves to wrap the kid in and help ease the shock. As long as it is pretty stable, I have Simon gather supplies for me, and I mend the cut while he rubs its wrists and watches its vital signs. I don't know what to use to treat it for infection, but Endram`e finds me some herbs he assures me will work, so I apply them under the new bandage. The kid didn't say a word, not so much as a wince the whole time, it seemed to have understood that we were helping. It now stares at us wide eyed, but the breathing and trembling eases.  
  
"You.You're n-not my D-daddy, are you? Are y-you back alive? Or, or am I d-dead?"  
  
"I'm your uncle Michelangelo. What's your name?"  
  
"Shiitake."  
  
"Shiitake, I am your brother Endram`e. We share the same mother."  
  
At the mention of brother, Shiitake glances over at his still siblings. We should really take him out of here.  
  
"Where's my momma?" he asks quietly.  
  
"I don't know", Endram`e answers.  
  
It's probably not a good sign that the mother isn't here. If that heart- rending wailing didn't bring her back here, well.  
  
"You'll have to come with us", I explain to him (I had concluded it was a boy, but I could still be proven wrong).  
  
"Yes. We need to leave here, it is still dangerous."  
  
"Where?" Shiitake asks, giving another glance at his siblings.  
  
"Away. Come, all of us."  
  
I pick Shiitake up and cradle him in my arms while I gracefully mount Endram`e again. This time I do it right on the first try. This is because I am Michelangelo once more. Simon gets on behind me.  
  
"I knew you'd come back some day", he tells me as we gallop away.  
  
Guess he's a lot more perceptive than I thought. 


	15. Donatello the Son

Donatello The Son - Saga of next Generation - Red Turtle  
  
I really thought this little soap opera of my existence was going to be over when Saber Khan hurled me into that light. I didn't have the life- flash-before-my-eyes occurrence that is reported by so many in my position, but I did have a definite I-am-so-fucked feeling. I was helpless, all that ninja training and everything that Uncle Leo tried to instill in us, it didn't help me when Dad was gunned down right in front of me and it didn't help me when a giant mutant lion decided to throw me into a an apparent time-warp.  
  
Now everything's been thrown to the wind. There are cars from the twentieth century here, driving around like new. They don't even have converters anywhere, and there's an actual gas station across the street, the pumps and everything. The sky's weird, the air's weird, the clothes people are wearing are weird, there's that stupid song Chicken and Pie are so into, at least I know we aren't like a hundred years back or something.then again that might be better.  
  
I barely notice William join me in the alley. I wouldn't have noticed at all but he hugged me, and I was obliged to hug him back. I had a flash of how much he cared for me, he probably thought I was dead and he ran in after me. How sweet. The best twin anyone ever had, that's him.  
  
About a minute later our cousin Christopher comes careening through the portal and lands on top of William. At this point I had positioned myself at the alley edge, watching the new world here with out being seen myself. I had never had to hide myself like this, I only knew from my father and uncles stories how humans would react to seeing us here, now. My intention was to quickly ascertain where and when we were, and devise a plan to get out of here. At the same time, I was remembering those talks I had with Dad about time travel; he and Simon thought they were close to accomplishing it. I guess Saber Khan beat them to it.  
  
"Where are-", Chris starts to say, interrupting my concentration and possibly endangering us with his loud voice.  
  
"Shhh!" I snap, and instantly my command is in stereo, William snaps at him from the other side.  
  
I like having a twin. Especially William, he's practicality an extension of me. I'm always the leader, in everything, and he follows. Since before we could walk, in fact I was walking before he was. It's made me a bit egotistical, though. As we grow older, I find myself more and more espousing the theory that the world is about me alone. It is here for me now, and it will die when I do. This is quite nonsense, realistically speaking, but still, even now, it seems as if Saber Khan did this to me, not to William or Christopher. When Dad died, it felt like fate had chosen me to hurt this way, never mind that he's got nine other children beside me, it was me that this was aimed at. Why else would William fall ill right at the time we were suppose to leave, if not to create a rare opportunity for me to be alone on stage when he was murdered, and to have the bullets stop right at my feet.  
  
My intelligence makes me quite egotistical as well. I am so smart that no one else even realizes it. I remember somewhere around preschool, we were still very small but already I could read, and William couldn't. He tried, but he struggled with it, where as I learned almost effortlessly, I saw the word once and knew it. Even then I was smart enough to know I needed to make a choice, either I had to dumb myself down in public or I would have to be separated from him in schools and everything. I chose him; of course, I didn't want to give him up. And he isn't dumb, that's the killer. Williams a genius in his own right, ready to graduate elementary at age twelve, that's pretty good. Thing was, I was better.  
  
Dad was just starting to realize this. A couple weeks before he died, he had me look at some of his notes on his and Simon's time travel theory (and boy am I glad I did), and asked me what I thought. He was testing me, I could tell. This was really advanced stuff here, for most people, and I could read it. In fact we talked about it for a couple hours then, and he was genuinely impressed with my ability. Just me, not William. After that he observed me more closely, and started picking up that, with a lot of our tests and experiments and papers, even our homework, I was always in the lead. At school sometimes we would even switch our identities, so that the teachers would think we had the same brilliance and relationship. We are identical, and its easy to confuse humans anyway, we're all green and bald.  
  
He had, on the trip over, talked to me about my plans for my education. Graduating high school at fourteen, then college. That was the furthest William could go. He wanted us to split up after elementary school, and he wanted me to try my hand at specialized institutions, secret ones that are so good that there are only five or six kids in the whole school. I said I would consider it but I never would. With out William I wouldn't have anything to lead, and I don't think I could ever live like that. I was also a little hurt that he didn't see how important my brother was to me.  
  
I was actually a tiny bit relieved that, when he died, that meant that this would no longer be an issue. In fact William and I revised our plan, unofficially but understood, we decided to go through high school more or less normally. We never discussed our goals since then, I'm afraid to because I don't want him to know what Dad had in mind, or how much this has all affected me.  
  
Course, all bets on high school are off for the moment.  
  
I have, after a few minutes of observing, come to the conclusion that we are definitely in the 2000s and definitely in a major North American city. From my position I can't see any sky-lines, but I can see a giant neon lit up thing a block or so away declaring TIMES SQUARE. This does not bode well.  
  
This is all unproven, this time travel, but so far it definitely seems to work, and if it works the way its suppose than I don't need to worry about destroying all our lives should we meet up with our former ancestors here. It would be very much like them meeting new companions, like Simon was to them. There's even the advantage that maybe they could help us to return and really go after Saber Khan. Thing is, I don't want to meet them. I don't think I could stand it, I mean, what would we say? How would we introduce ourselves?  
  
Well, enough of my solitary thoughts, its time to link up with the others. I think we're going to have clue Chris in very slowly, he's not very bright.  
  
A glance at William's newspaper confirms my presumption; it is a New York Times discussing impending war in the middle east with Bush as president. There were more than one Bush, but its probably the 2000 one. The New York Times is, or was, a national paper, but I'm pretty sure this is New York. A glance at Chris confirms that he has no idea what is going on. He's staring at a plane in the sky. True those don't fly around like they used to, but its not like they're totally unheard of.  
  
"We're in big trouble", I tell him.  
  
"Yep", William agrees.  
  
"Why? Where are we?" Chris asks, incredulously.  
  
"We are", I begin, think better of it, and sit him down in the alley, "We are about fifty years in the past, in North America, probably in New York."  
  
He thinks for a while. William and I patiently wait.  
  
"Does that mean that our parents are here?" He asks finally.  
  
"Our fathers at least. None of our mothers are from here."  
  
"Most of our Moms aren't even born yet", William points out.  
  
"Okay, but our fathers are here. And our grandfather, he was a great ninja. So we can get them to help us. It's a fight against evil, right? And if we get back with them-"  
  
"NO FUCKING WAY!" William snapped. This was a reflection of my thinking but not quite the way I was going to express it.  
  
"What? Why not? We need help and they're here to give it. We'd even have uncle Don-oh."  
  
He finally saw at least maybe one thing wrong with the plan, that maybe we don't want to meet up with our dead father.  
  
"Yeah", William said, "That'd be great, wouldn't it? Us and Dad, just like we used to be, except here he's probably younger than we are. And wouldn't that kind of fuck up the time-space continuum, or something? What's your Dad going to say when we bring this crew back? What about his seeing his dad, Splinter? He'll probably have a heart attack, just like we will when we see our Dad, if we see him which we better not!"  
  
William and I were both known for our quietness, so this outburst was startling.  
  
"Let's keep quieter", I suggested, aware of the human eyes all around us, and what would happen if they see us.  
  
"Right", William agreed.  
  
"Okay, I'm sorry guys. Its just, I want to get back there and I want to defeat this guy", Chris explained, and I saw a glimpse of the hero in him, "How do you propose we go about this?"  
  
"We should stay above ground", William insisted, "Because they lived in the sewers back then."  
  
"But how do we stay out of sight of the humans?", Chris asked.  
  
Good, the boy has sense yet.  
  
"Well, we could just climb above the buildings, or find a chapel or something to camp in until-"  
  
A shadow came over us. It landed in the back of the alley.  
  
"Hi! Couldn't help noticing you from the roof up there. My name's Michelangelo. What's yours?"  
  
Crap. 


	16. Romea II

Saga of Next Generation - Romea II By: Red Turtle  
  
A/N: Sorry it took so long to update. This was a hard chapter to write in a way that would advance the story and capture the emotions of Romea with respect to the lost family members.  
  
Romea II:  
  
. . . . .  
  
So that's it then, no more little brother, no more cousins, just like that.  
  
I've always felt like Julian and I was bonded together, but I never imagined that we were destined to survive genocide like this.  
  
And I never imagined our parents would fail so spectacularly in their quest.  
  
Speaking of which, I haven't needed my mom like this since I learned to walk on two legs. I need her bad now. In desperation, I get out my communicator and start repeatedly dialing my Mom's number.  
  
After a minute of sadly watching, one of our new bird cousins reaches over and gently takes the communicator from me.  
  
"That's not going to help you", She explains sadly.  
  
"I'm trying to call our parents. They're ninja's, they can help. And we know where the guy is now, we just have to go over there and get him."  
  
Another sad moment passes, with them looking at us with their intense little bird eyes.  
  
"Your parents are among those inside", Catholicism finally tells us, "We didn't see our father, but the others.they."  
  
But that's impossible. I mean, they only got Uncle Don because we were unprepared, but there is no fucking way they got the best of my Mom and Dad, not to mention uncle Leo and Aunt Ronique. Uncle Mike maybe, I could see that. But not my fucking Mom and Dad, not Uncle Leo, not Aunt Ronique.  
  
"I.d-didn't s-s-see them", Julian stammers, "I-I didn't r-really look, but I would know, w-we would know."  
  
Catholicism tries to reach out to comfort him, but he shakes her off and clings closure to me. While their intense, sad little eyes are convincing, I can't accept something like this so simply. I can't take the word of two cousins I had never met before. Besides, maybe they made some mistake, maybe there are other adult mutant turtles but not our parents, or maybe Uncle Mike is in there but not our dad. Too many variables.  
  
I need to know what were dealing with, and I need to know now, as time for us in undoubtedly running out. If this is true, they have effectively gotten rid of all the members of our family but the four of us, and its unlikely they will let us run around much longer. They could be headed here right now. They could be training poisoned arrows at us as I stand here.  
  
But first thing's first. I need to know how I face this, whether I hold onto hope that Mom and Dad will save us or I use the last minutes of my life in an all out revenge, a suicide mission to take down as many of the enemy as I can. Only the verification of the deaths will choose my path.  
  
"Let me...I need to see this for myself.and then we will.we will decide what to do next", I tell them.  
  
The cousins nod in unison. They're a lot like Julian and myself.  
  
Julian shakes his head slightly. He doesn't accompany me back inside, and I don't blame him. Even if I live I will never be able to set foot in this house again after this. In the living room lie all the bodies of my cousins and brother, thrown together in a heap. It's hard to look at, and it's hard to take in whether they are all accounted for there or whether some might have escaped. Its sort of like adjusting your eyes to darkness, when at first you can't make any thing out, and then slowly you can distinguish among the blackness, and finally for me you can recognize everything as if it was light. At first it was a mass of blood and green (and the one orange), and slowly I could tell which was which, and finally I found what I didn't want to, a piece of fox too large to be Rowdie. A piece. A fucking piece of my mother. What had those monsters done?!  
  
That's all I need to confirm in my heart what our path must be now. I'm sure that more meticulous searching would reveal evidence of my father, uncle and aunt, because there is no way a piece of my mother would be here if any of them were still breathing.  
  
I hope she took out a bunch of those bastards before she died, just like I'm going to do.  
  
Uncle Leo once said, Death comes to us all. The important thing is to die with honor. Tonight we will die with honor, or we will live with shame.  
  
I march back out.  
  
"We need to go back there", I announce, unsheathing my sword.  
  
"What are we going to do?" Julian asks hesitantly.  
  
"We're going to kill them. As many as we can. We're going to go right in through the front door and start slaughtering."  
  
"Where is this enemy located?" Catholicism inquired.  
  
"Follow us", I tell her, and begin my tract back to building. Julian takes out his sword and falls in step behind me, but I sense his heart isn't in it. Well, fuck it, what else are we going to do? The cousins follow. I am pleased that they seem skilled in stealth and climb as silently as we do. Course that probably doesn't mean shit, given how good our enemies are.  
  
But maybe, just maybe, we'll be able to get to the lion, who must be the leader, and if there is any sense of justice in the world I will slice his head clear off with this very sword. I have never actually decapitated anything, but I did practice the move on cloth dummies in the dojo. I rehearse in my mind how the move is performed, and this keeps me occupied until we reach the edge of the forest that leads to the building.  
  
Our destiny.  
  
At least I might take comfort that my death will not be boring.  
  
To be continued. 


	17. Christopher IV

Christopher IV in the Saga by Red Turtle  
  
Crap.  
  
This whole epic battle is one big failure after another.  
  
The twins both sort of hide behind me, not wanting to deal with any of the ramifications our uncle might bring. I'm not sure what to do, honestly. I mean, we can't run away from him, and as hard or awkward as it is, I think the best bet is to unite with him and the whole first generation in their prime, go back and really kick Saber Khan's ass. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?  
  
Course, problem is I have no idea what could happen if we do that. We could accidentally destroy the whole world.  
  
Crap!  
  
"Um, are you guys okay?" Uncle Mike asks, getting a little closure, "Who beat you up? Don't worry, I'll protect you. Look, I'm a ninja, and we turtles got to stick together, right?"  
  
To prove this, he effortlessly takes out his nun chucks and gives us a brief demonstration of his prowess through a series of kicks, spins, and fancy maneuvers.  
  
Wow! Young, alert, energetic, healthy, more ability with a nun chuck in one hand then I will probably ever have with my stupid useless swords that so far have done nothing in this epic battle.  
  
So, this is what Uncle Michelangelo was like back in the day, before getting all drugged out and alcoholic. I bite my tongue to keep from giving him a 'Don't do Drugs' lecture.  
  
"Can you guys talk at all?" he inquires, looking at us nervously, "Do you speak English? I know some Japanese, and Spanish."  
  
"English", I sputter, because I don't want him to try and talk to us in Japanese.  
  
"Okay, great, that's my best language. So, what are your names?"  
  
"Uh. . .it's, um. . .Christopher", I finally say. I was trying to come up with a plausible fake name and was at a complete blank. My heart leaped as I said it, because if the world was going to be destroyed this would be what set it off. But nothing bad happened, and my pulse settled down.  
  
"Cool", Mike replied, shaking my hand enthusiastically, "What about you guys?"  
  
As he came nearer, Donatello and William almost drew entirely into their shells. If mutation hadn't made it almost impossible for us to withdraw like normal turtles, they probably would be all closed in by now. It was obvious they weren't about to introduce themselves, but it seemed weird to leave him hanging. Also, my desire to enlist my fathers and grandfather in this fight was fueled by the fact that they could know everything with out the world ending, and damn it we weren't going to win this with out them. So I went ahead and started introducing the twins.  
  
"This is William and. . .uh, he's, that one, his name is. . . it's.. . ."  
  
Oops, I hadn't taken into account exactly how awkward it would be to introduce Donatello.  
  
"I don't have a name", Donatello interjected nervously.  
  
Well, that's one way to solve the problem.  
  
"Geez, really, that's harsh", Mike commented, "So what happened to you guys? You look like you need help."  
  
"Yeah, we do", I affirmed, simultaneously with Donatello and William saying, "No, we don't", causing Mike to give us a weird look.  
  
"Chris, what are you doing?" Donatello whispered in my right ear.  
  
"You're fucking us up", William whispered in my left ear.  
  
I hate it when they do that.  
  
"Look, we need their help to defeat Saber Khan. And he's right, we're all beat up, we need to get some first aid. And its too late to avoid him anyway", I whispered back to them quietly.  
  
"But we can't do this", they tried to protest, still quietly.  
  
"I won't ask any questions", Mike promised, having watched our little conversation, "But I have three brothers and we have friends and stuff. If you need help we can give it. At least let me get you some food and patch you up or something."  
  
"Yeah, we would like that", I told him, "We really need some help. They're just real shy, so ignore them."  
  
"Uh.okay", he agreed hesitantly, "Well, I live in the sewers. Just follow me."  
  
I grabbed my cousins' wrists and pulled them along with me. They went meekly enough into the sewers, I guess to get away from the alley and possible discovery by humans, but once down there they became very stubborn.  
  
"Would you two come on!", I hissed, trying not to have Mike hear me scalding them, "The sooner we get to them the sooner we can get back and defeat Saber Khan."  
  
"We don't care about defeating Saber Khan", Donatello retaliated, "And we don't care about going home either. All we care about is that we don't have to run into-"  
  
"Hey, Mikey, What you got there?!", A new voice interrupted.  
  
Looking over, I saw our young uncle Mike greeted by another young uncle emerging from a side tunnel. Uncle Raphael, judging by the red mask and the sais. And, emerging next to him would be the ephemeral Uncle Donatello, purple mask, staff like his son, and I could see a screwdriver and tools in his belt.  
  
Crap!  
  
I really hadn't taken into account what a shock it would be to see him alive, not to mention so young. I just now realized they were all probably younger than me here, and probably barely older than Donatello and William.  
  
My shock caused me to completely loose my grip on the twins, and their shock caused them to both slip because they had been braced against me. They knocked me over in the process, and for a minute we all sat stunned in the sewer tunnel.  
  
"Sorry", I finally managed to stammer to them, but they didn't acknowledge me.  
  
"I found them in an alley street side", Mike was explaining to his brothers, "Someone beat them up kinda bad, so I was bringing them to the lair to heal them up."  
  
"Hi", Donatello greeted us brightly, extending a hand to me.  
  
He was met with blank stares, so he left his hand down.  
  
"Not very friendly, are they", Raphael remarked.  
  
"They're just shy", Mike snapped, "Don't be so rude."  
  
I managed to stand up under my own power and not look at Uncle Don, but I couldn't quite talk yet. If I can't get over this shock enough to talk it's going to be really hard to explain about Saber Khan. But if we tell them about needing their help for that, how are we going to explain the whole thing with out getting into details. . .  
  
What the fuck did I get us into?  
  
"So", Uncle Mike continued, "Guys, these are my brothers Raphael and Donatello. They're ninja's too."  
  
More blank stares. The twins were holding each other, probably unconsciously.  
  
"Right, well", Mike continued, "This is Christopher, and this is William and he doesn't have a name."  
  
I tried to find the voice to correct uncle Mike, he'd actually gotten them mixed up, but I ended up not being able to. Oh, well, they'll figure it out eventually.  
  
"You don't have a name?" Raphael asked incredulously, "What kind of name is that?"  
  
Boy, uncle Raphael was a bit abrasive as a youth, wasn't he? He must have really mellowed out as an adult, because I would not expect him to act like this.  
  
"Maybe we could give you a name", Uncle Don offered.  
  
"That's okay", I told him, "We just. . .um, you know, I think we'll be okay with out food after all. We, uh, sorry to bother you and all, but-"  
  
"But nothing, where do you think you're going to go, kid?" Raphael interrupted, "You're obviously not from around here, you think we're going to let you run around cut up like that and starving? You'll probably get killed."  
  
It was an embarrassing ten seconds or so in which I realized I was so shocked at his attitude towards us my mouth was hanging open. Uncle Raphael never even yelled at his own kids that way, much less ones he had never met before, besides which I was actually older than him here, how dare he call me a kid.  
  
"Hey, Chris, don't mind him. He got dropped on his head when we were little. It's made him a bit edgy", Mike assured him.  
  
None of us said anything, but Uncle Raphael glared at Uncle Mike.  
  
"I'd really like you guys to come with us", Uncle Don finally spoke quietly, "And we don't have to name him if you don't want to."  
  
Oh, Geez, that was, for lack of a better description, fucking cute. As an adult he had retained some of that mannerism, but here, being a little fifteen year old, looking all sad that we were going to leave. . .  
  
Shit, we can't leave now. Not with him fucking asking us not to. No way, I could not turn my back on that. And I doubt the twins could either. I risked a glance down at them; they were still huddled together on the floor.  
  
"Okay, we'll go", William said, so faintly that if we hadn't all been within five feet of each other they probably wouldn't have heard them.  
  
I helped them up. Uncle Mike and Uncle Don hung back with us, and Uncle Raphael ran ahead to go prepare food and medical supplies. Uncle Mike chattered with us non-stop about their living conditions, about Grandfather Splinter (he didn't want us to be freaked out by a giant rat), about loving pizza, and started to get into something called the Foot but Uncle Don sort of hushed him on that. It took a minute for me to remember that Dad had told me about the Foot, they were his mortal enemies when he was my age, like Saber Khan is to us. But that was so long ago and distant to my experience, it was very strange to hear them talked about like a real threat.  
  
We hadn't traveled too long to reach their lair, but there were a lot of turns and darkness that would have made it impossible for me to recall the way. When I realized we were standing at what passed for their front door, a wave of excitement ran through me. I had heard stories of their home in the sewers when they were younger, and I had always tried to imagine what it was like, how they set up their rooms and got heat and watched TV and all. I always sort of wanted to live like they did, with out school or human society, it was sort of romantic, I guess, like they were poor but happy, making the best they could and training themselves in martial arts with out fancy weapons or dojos.  
  
We stepped into a large central room, lots of artificial lights and a couch and TV, and some bookcases and a rug. I was amazed that it was quite warm and dry. Also, I saw that a lot of the walls and shelves had been decorated with little painted on pictures that looked like the work of an individual artist, probably when they were younger. A pile of food sat on the table, pizza, juice, some pieces of fruit and bread recognizable within it.  
  
"Sensei, this is Christopher, William and, uh, William Number Two", Mike announced.  
  
Standing next to the table was an old rat whose presence commanded an aura of respect. Automatically I bowed before him, thinking what an honor to meet my grandfather in person. He returned the bow, looking surprised but impressed.  
  
"Are you ninja?" He inquired, and no amount of my fathers stories could have recreated the experience of hearing my grandfather speak to me. Now I was glad we had come.  
  
"I am trained in the art", I answered. I didn't feel like my abilities came anything close to being called a ninja at this point.  
  
"I see you also wear a mask", he commented. Mine was black, but it was definetly a similar style to my father, since he had passed it on to me.  
  
"And you two?" He asked of the twins. They had not bowed and seemed scared before him. They didn't wear masks, since they weren't into the ninja style as much. But they had their weapons.  
  
"No, sir", they answered together, looking around nervously.  
  
"Please do not let my appearance alarm you", he said, "I am called Master Splinter. My son tells me that you are in need of our assistance."  
  
"Yes, we are, thank you", I answered, feeling once again confident in this mission to join forces and over throw Saber Khan, even with explaining what happens to Uncle Don.  
  
"Don't worry, whatever it is we'll take care of it", One more new voice confidently spoke, as a forth mutant turtle emerged on the scene carrying gauze and peroxide, probably for us.  
  
Oh, yeah, I forgot. I have a Dad in the past too. How incredibly awkward! He even has the same swords I have, in fact I think they might be the very same swords, he had given me one of his older sets as a gift. And of course, he too is younger than I am now.  
  
"I'm Leonardo", he greeted, taking my hand after he set down the supplies and shaking it rather enthusiastically. Other than being so much obviously younger, he really didn't seem any different from my Dad now. He was probably excited both that we were mutant turtles and that we were ninja, or at least ninja-esque. He didn't shake Donatello or William's hand, but they were both sort of clinging to each other to discourage that.  
  
"Let us mend your wounds and refresh your bodies, and then perhaps you can tell us your story", Splinter directed. It seemed like a weird way to phrase things, 'Refresh your bodies', but he is an old ninja master and I enjoy hearing him speak.  
  
But I'm not so sure he is going to enjoy hearing what we have to say, and I am actually relieved to put it off a while longer so they can go about treating us. With all the shock of everything going on, from the fighting to the initial time travel warping, to the dealing with all of this, I hadn't even felt hurt, but as Uncle Mike sat me down I became aware of some acute pain in my chest and realized I had quite a puncture in it, even bleeding, although not profusely. I also had two small but deep slashes on my shoulder, I remember getting them from one of the fighters as I leaped into the portal. I had noted two cuts on William, a long one along his arm and another on his thigh, and Donatello had a red mark on his cheek, like he'd been hit pretty hard there. There were bound to be other wounds as well. No wonder they kept harping on getting us medical treatment, we must look like a sight to them  
  
I pray for this time to pass slowly, because I have no idea what to do when it comes time for us to speak. Telling them everything and joining forces seems the most reasonable route, but I'm not sure I can. Physically, I'm not sure the words will come out. And I don't expect Donatello or William to be able to.  
  
Maybe we can just stay in this state forever, with Uncle Don and Grandfather Splinter alive, and Uncle Mike all alert and conscious, and I could practice with Dad every day and not deal with humans. No pressure to have relationships. There would be no college ever. And no searching for Saber Khan either, because we could just stay here and ignore the future. It would be nice for the twins, they would have a more stable family unit right here, right now, then they'll ever have at home.  
  
Course, back home there is Mom, and Leonardo here is not actually my Dad, so I would miss him too. And there's Katlin, poor kid, I really need to spend more time with her. She needs her Mom and Dad, and she needs me. I pay more attention to my little cousins then to her. I can't just abandon her to live here.  
  
Course maybe she'll end up back in time, back here. She would get all the attention she needs here, with all these adults and nothing to do but stay in this lair and practice. She wouldn't be miserable in school because of course she wouldn't go. We would home school her in everything. She'd miss Mom and Dad too, but she never gets to see them anyway the way things are back home. She's not close to any of her cousins, so that wouldn't be an issue.  
  
Yeah, man. . .if Katlin could be here, with me and Donatello and William, and we could just stay with our fathers like this forever down here. . .  
  
That would be so nice. . . 


	18. Catholicism

Catholicism - Saga of Next Generation - Red Turtle  
  
Last night I had dreamt of something very silly. It involved being a pet bird in a cage. I was all bird, no turtle or human parts. I could sing, more so than in real life, because we Kiticha are not known for our vocal ability. The whole dream I spent singing and hopping on perches, eating seeds and pecking at shiny objects. It was the best dream I had ever had.  
  
We believe that dreams mean something. I woke up thinking it meant that some happiness was going to come my way. Now I don't know what to think of it.  
  
I'm not likely to be imprisoned, the way those monsters went after us. And if I were I don't think I'd enjoy it.  
  
Really a cat eating me up as a bird dream would have been much more appropriate. Especially since it was a cat that ate up my brother. A giant cat, sort of a tiger crossed with human, but something even more. Kind of like us. We're birds, crossed with humans and then something else added in.  
  
And for all I have been through, it has only resulted in the loss of two of my loved ones. Here these poor cousins have lost the entire family.  
  
I don't even know how many were in our family. I certainly didn't know they're foxes in it. I was quite surprised to see the fox bodies in the house, and then this female fox cousin seems to be defiantly related to us. She introduced herself as Raphael's daughter. But she doesn't look like a turtle at all. The way she related to her turtle brother though, I'm pretty sure she isn't adapted. If I didn't know better I would swear they were twins.  
  
I had also not realized that our family was of the ninja persuasion. To see how my cousins approached it was obvious they had studied this art. And inside the house we had seen strong evidence of the practice, weapons, outfits, pictures, books, ect. My one uncle, I'm pretty sure, was just a scientist. And when my father asked us to help find the killer, well, that just seemed like a natural family response to a murder like that, not some honorable revenge. He didn't say anything about becoming a ninja to do it. Not that we cared at the time anyway, but you think some one would have mentioned it. It's a very strange thing to learn about ones' family.  
  
I'm vaguely wondering if any of their ninja activities is what led to this slaughter of our family. But, at this point, I am thrown in with them. The ones behind this saw fit to kill my mother and brother regardless of our affiliation with this family, and they will surely kill Judaism and me as well if they catch us. So we are cast into this fate.  
  
This fate involves now following our cousins to where they say the ones responsible live. There's no hope of actually getting revenge for anything, its unlikely we will do much damage based on what I have already witnessed of the enemy. But we will try. Our cousins have their ninja training to aid them, and Judaism and I have our natural abilities, flying and clawing.  
  
We move stealthily through the forest. I'm not sure why, I don't think the element of surprise will help much here. It seems like an eternity before we come across a dark warehouse type building. From there we go to the roof, they climb almost as quickly as we fly. There is no sign of movement.  
  
They dip into an opening in the roof, and we follow. Its sort of an air duct. We emerge very quickly into a large, empty room. An almost empty room. There is a large computer on one side, and a very large and frightening picture on the other. While the others brace themselves and search for an enemy presence in the room, I stare at the picture. I figure out that it is an enlarged close up photo of uncle Don being shot to pieces. That is really, really awful.  
  
What kind of freaks are we dealing with?  
  
The very big and silent kind that stride into the room and fling my cousins into a wall. The kind with very sharp claws and very large teeth that are now poised at my brother's neck, having effortlessly restrained him with one paw.  
  
"We're running out of ways to kill you guys", the giant tiger thing sneers at him.  
  
To be continued. 


	19. William II

William II - Saga of the next Generation By Red Turtle  
  
A/N: Please forgive that all the author note chapters that were so helpful to others understanding this story had to be removed per request of fanfiction.net people. Since this request came so late in the development of the story I was unable to incorporate any of the information smoothly into the story in another format. So, those of you joining after those chapter removals will probably be slightly confused for a while, but if you got this far than you have probably been able to figure most things out. And some things have yet to be explained, like what Saber Khan is trying to do to the mutant turtle family and why. Also, I'm no longer sure if this is explained anywhere so I will state here that this story has been partially developed in my head forever, but it was in a comic form and never fully developed until now, and in the process I am trying to keep track of everything, explain events adequately and not have any plot holes, but with something this complex its hard, so please let me know if there are any problems. But I must be doing something right as I won an award for most complex plot.  
  
It also inspired a sub-story concerning the events at the house while the older children were away, and what happened to the parents. It gives some insight into the bad guys side of things and I think it adds to the plot development. Someone worked very, very hard on it. But, only the stoutest of those among you will want to try reading it, as its very graphic. It is in the R section.  
  
Another lost note is that the time jumps around a little from chapter to chapter, not more than a couple hours before or after the last point of view, but it can confuse people if you don't realize it (because different things are happening to them at different times). As in this chapter, you will find that William is a little ahead of where Catholicism left off, but the next chapter will take up with Julian in the enemy's camp.  
  
Anyway, now onto Williams continuation of the saga:  
  
This is the best meal I have ever had. Seated with my uncles, grandfather, and my long lost father, it's like a dream come true. But it's the kind of dream that is beautiful and hideous at the same time. And the nightmare will begin as soon as the meal ends, for then they will demand answers of us, we will have to speak to them, or we will have to leave, both of which present frighteningly unknown futures. Although we slowed our meal down as much as possible, an hour has passed and all of them have finished eating and are waiting on us. Once or twice they try to start the conversation leading to our past (future) lives, and we derail it. Donatello and I just cling together, while Chris' method is to immediately stuff his mouth with pizza and then chew for a very long time. This is almost funny but so deathly serious.  
  
And, I can't help wonder how is time passing in our own world? How long have we been gone? What happened to Julian and Romea, who didn't end up with us? Maybe in our world, if we return, time will have moved backwards for us. . .and we really will be able to eat with our real father, and. . .  
  
This is insane. I can't let these thoughts get a hold of me.  
  
Finally I just can't take it anymore. This little moment of peace has come to an end. But still we don't know what course to take, so I carefully begin speaking to Donatello, to try to form a plan, or at least convey some feeling with out the others knowing. We have our own language for just such a purpose, and I enjoy using it because it creates a nice bond between us that I really need right about now.  
  
"Hi na saur", I whisper to my twin.  
  
"Im mel yes", he replies.  
  
"Quenuvale `u! Hi na gayasir", I hiss, perhaps a little louder than I meant to.  
  
Basically what was going on was that I began by telling him how horrible this was, what torture, and he responded that he thought it was beautiful. This was such an unexpected response that I snapped, and basically told him that he was crazy and to shut up.  
  
You see, it's fairly common for twins to develop their own little secret language as children, but usually its either complete nonsense or some variation of pig Latin. But no, not us. We had to be special. After reading The Lord of the Rings at age five, we decided to adapt the Elvin speech as our own, complete with its own grammar, inflections and everything. We incorporated all that was already formed by Tolkien himself, then improved on it over the years, increasing the vocabulary and adding new rules and pronunciation as needed, until we now had a more advanced form than I'm sure even he had ever envisioned. Our only mistake was not differentiating the Quenya dialect from the Sindarin, so those words are combined in our version. Oh, well, what do you expect from five year olds?  
  
"Peduvalmet ilye an hain!" he told me, very determined.  
  
"Man quenuva? Man diruva?" I asked.  
  
"Nin quenuva", he answered darkly.  
  
In short, he thinks they should be told everything, I said who the hell is going to tell them, and he said he would. The language actually translates much fancier than that, I'm just summarizing here.  
  
We met each other's eyes, our first disagreement that I can remember, at least over something more significant than who got the bigger share of a happy meal. I registered that all other conversation had ceased, I guess we were getting a little carried away with ourselves, so I lowered my eyes to my plate and tried to hurriedly think of another way out of this situation.  
  
"Quenuvalye i lamber Eldareva", Our father interjected after ten seconds, "And what are you going to tell us?"  
  
Oooooh! Busted! We forgot he's a genius too! What he said to us was one of the more common phrases; Thou speak the language of Elves, that's even straight out of the book. Durr, of course he would have the Elfish language memorized, and he probably just read the book recently at that! He wouldn't know all our words, of course, and he spoke it with different accents than we did but he obviously got the jist of it.  
  
"Uh, Don, what language is that?" Uncle Mike asked, he and the others looked totally dumbfounded.  
  
"That would be the language of the High Elves of Middle Earth", our cousin replied wearily, having long gotten used to our frustrating secret language he could never understand. He hated babysitting us, let me tell you.  
  
"I'm sorry, you speak Elfish?" Uncle Leonardo asked, in exactly the same manner his future version did when he first heard us speaking at the dinner table.  
  
"Its from Tolkien", our father replied dismissively, "And I really want to know what you have to tell us. There's obviously something going on with all of you."  
  
We bided some more time by sitting there, the three of us with almost terrified expressions on our faces. It was sort of like when our father first died, there was a certain amount of dread when you tried to actually say it out loud. Even Donatello, in spite of his determination to tell all, remained stock silent.  
  
"Well, see, it. . .See, we. . .um, there's this guy, no, see, first. . .uh. . ." Chris stammered unsuccessfully, then looked to us for help.  
  
"I don't know where to begin" he finally sighed. My heart lurched in my chest when he actually started crying. It was just one tear, but still.  
  
"You could start with who beat you up", Uncle Mike suggested.  
  
"No, we should begin with my name", Donatello suggested, but then offered no more.  
  
"I thought you didn't have a name", Our grandfather Splinter pressed after a moment.  
  
Chris pulled us into a small huddle.  
  
"Wait, we shouldn't. . .I mean, maybe. . .ah. . .how much are we going to tell them?" Chris asked us quietly, as hopelessly lost in the situation as was I.  
  
"We're going to tell them everything. It's the only way we can win. And. . .it will be okay. Trust me, I. . .I know how this works", Donatello assured us.  
  
"You know how?!", Chris demanded, "When have you ever. . .you know. . ."  
  
"I haven't in practice, but I know. There is research in it, and I believe the theories to be true."  
  
After a minute of contemplation, Chris nodded to him.  
  
"Okay, fine. I guess you would know better than me."  
  
"William?", Donatello asked me, because I was so resistant earlier. But now I just didn't know what would be better. I guess things couldn't be any worse.  
  
"Ore: ello nin quen im, hi nuva tu", he speaks in Elfish again, saying his heart tells him this is the right path.  
  
Well, I can't argue with that. And, in fact, of all of us, he would know the most about the ramifications of time travel.  
  
"Maruvan", I say quietly, also in Elfish. I will abide.  
  
We break the huddle and turn back to our family. It feels a little better to think of it that way, these guys are family, so we have to tell them.  
  
"Okay", Donatello begins, "We have a lot to tell you. First, I have a name, and its. .. ."  
  
My twin falters at his own name. I could tell, he's trying to say it out loud and he's choking on it. I gently squeeze his hand to try and give him some strength, or maybe get enough of his to continue the conversation.  
  
"Is it Thomas?", Our father guesses.  
  
I thought this revelation from our father (that he must have been thinking of that name for like thirty years before we were even born) would throw Donatello speechless, but he surprised me.  
  
"My first name is Thomas", he replied, recovering quickly, "However, I go by my middle name, which is Donatello."  
  
So then they all stare at us for like a whole minute. I'm really not enjoying this attention, as much as it is nice to see my father's eyes on me again.  
  
"Well, that's kind of odd", Father finally says.  
  
"Not really", Donatello gathers his ability to speak, "I'm named after. . .you."  
  
We wait and watch their reactions, which grow even more intense in their puzzlement.  
  
"Back that truck up, dudes", Uncle Mike interjects, "How are you named after him? Your only maybe a year younger than us-"  
  
"Who named you after me?" Father interrupts, and he's looking kind of freaked out now. Geez, I hope he adjusts as well as we do, which is to not go running out of this home screaming like I want to.  
  
"My Mom", Donatello answers, "It's actually quite simple, see-"  
  
"Whose your mom?!", Everyone chimed in at once.  
  
"It's kind of complicated", Donatello tried to explain, contradicting himself, "We're not from here. The. . . easiest way to explain is that were from. . ."  
  
There was a slight awkward pause. Donatello seemed to be having trouble actually saying it.  
  
"Are you guys from the future?",. Uncle Mike, and in the most serious tone I had ever heard him use, especially for words that sound so crazy, so movie like.  
  
"Its not exactly the future", Donatello starts to explain, relieved that its finally coming out, "Because what happens in our life course is different than yours, and there the QT101 theory, which if it applies means that our courses will evolve in separate formulas, because of the quantum-"  
  
"Oh, for fucks sake, yes, we're from the future!", Christopher interrupts, than quickly looks embarrassed at his out burst. He never swears like that in front of his father, even though here uncle Leo isn't exactly his father, still. . .  
  
There is abrupt silence at this. All of them are examining us very closely now. I wonder what they are thinking.  
  
"So. . .then, you're my kids?", father asks, amazed and slightly freaked out.  
  
"Yes", I answer earnestly, almost envisioning hugging him in reunion.  
  
"Kind of", Donatello adds, and holds my hand again, perhaps sensing what I am thinking.  
  
"Well, they are", Christopher stresses, "I'm Leonardo's."  
  
"Really?", Uncle Leo looks pleased at this announcement.  
  
No more conversation follows, as they all are staring at us with even more interest than before.  
  
"Why aren't you happy to see us?", Uncle Mike asks the first question, and it wasn't what I was expecting.  
  
"Um. . .its just that were here under. . .unpleasant circumstances", Chris answers.  
  
"Do you need help with whoever beat you up?", Uncle Mike offers sincerely.  
  
"I don't know", Chris answers for us, "I'm not sure it's a good idea, you know, mixing everyone around and all. If we could just get back, our. .. .family there will help us."  
  
"Do you need help getting back home?", Father asks, probably already going over the quantum physics of time travel ramification in his mind so he can try to build us a portal.  
  
"Yes, that we definitely need", Chris replies, gratefully.  
  
"How did you get here in the first place?", Father inquires, apparently he wasn't able to conceive of the mechanics on his own.  
  
"The enemy, the ones that beat us up, we were fighting them and they threw us all in this portal thing", Chris answers, "Actually, they just threw Donatello in. The rest of us jumped in after him."  
  
"What about me and Mike's kids? I mean, do we have any? Are they helping?", Uncle Raph asks his first question.  
  
"Your kids were with us, but I haven't seen them over here. Mike's kids are all too young to fight", Chris tells them.  
  
Once again I wonder how the others are all doing. I wish now we had taken JB with us, he might have been helpful. And it would have been worth something for him to see how serious and helpful his father his over here.  
  
"Do you have communicators at all?", Father asks.  
  
"Yeah, we do", Donatello says, and brings his out to show our father, who examines it with great interest, probably trying to get an idea of the technology we had developed in the future.  
  
"These aren't standard radio waves, are they?", Father asks.  
  
"No. They use a different form."  
  
"Have you tried contacting your family with them?", Father asks, handing it back, "It might be worth a shot, the signals might go through to the other frequencies, and we could try to talk to your family and get them to work the portal. If they don't work, maybe we can adjust them somehow. That would be more likely than building a time machine."  
  
"Okay", Donatello agreed, and initiated the communicator.  
  
We're shocked when it is answered on the first ring. We are even more shocked to see what answered it, some kind of feathered turtle creature. At first I thought we must have contacted some alternate universe.  
  
"Hello. Are you cousins?", the feathered turtle asks us in a female voice.  
  
"Who. . .are you Michelangelo's kids?", Donatello sputters in amazement.  
  
"Yes, we are. Hello cousins. I am Catholicism. I am with Julian and Romea, and my brother Judaism. We do not know our location, however."  
  
"Donatello? Is that you?", Romea inquires, and grabs the communicator from Catholicism, "Donatello, thank god! I am so glad you survived! And William and Christopher, as well? Did they?"  
  
"Yes, we're all here", Christopher responds, opening his own communicator. I have one too but opt to just share with Donatello.  
  
"Oh, Chris", she sighs, "I'm so happy to see you."  
  
This is disturbing to me. Very disturbing. Something is wrong. Even if we had been missing for a week, I don't think Romea would be this distressed. And, why are Uncle Mike's kids here? They have never done anything with our family.  
  
"Listen, Romea, Saber Khan put us in a time warp. It's hard to explain, but can you guys get to that machine and figure out-"  
  
"I'm sorry, Chris, but no, we can't. He used it on us. We're not in that room anymore, and I don't know where we are, or how to get back to him."  
  
There's a slight pause.  
  
"Time warp?", Julian asks, in a delayed reaction.  
  
"Yes, time warp. We're in New York fifty years ago. We actually hooked up with our family here, if we could get back and join forces with everyone back there, we could really kick Saber Khan's ass!", Chris explained excitedly. Well, seems like he's adjusted to this idea now, quantum physic ramifications be damned.  
  
There is another silence. Our grandfather, uncles, and father all wait patiently, following the discussion.  
  
Romea hands the communicator to Catholicism. She's crying, and in the background, I'll be damned if Julian isn't crying too. This is really wrong.  
  
"If we are thrown in the same time, perhaps we can try to unite here", Catholicism suggests, then with a breath adds, "We have much to tell you, before we make a plan to return. But we are unfamiliar with this territory. Where are you at?"  
  
"Just tell Romea to set the homing signal on the communicator. We'll track you guys down, if you are in our dimension or whatever, we'll find you."  
  
"Very well. We shall wait for you here, cousins."  
  
"Hey, make sure you stay hidden. Wherever you are, its probably before mutants were accepted, so don't get in trouble, okay?"  
  
"Yes, we will stay hidden. Please hurry."  
  
She shuts the communicator down. We click ours off.  
  
"Wow. That was really strange", Christopher says to us, "I didn't remember we had those cousins. I think they were in Nepal or something."  
  
"So, this Saber Khan is responsible for your being here?", Splinter inquired gently.  
  
"He's responsible for a lot of things", Chris answered darkly.  
  
"What is he like the Shredder or something?", Uncle Leo asked.  
  
"The who?", Donatello responds, simultaneously with me responding, "The what?"  
  
Sometimes we do that.  
  
"The Shredder was just some punk that used to bother them all the time", Chris explained non-chantly to us as he stood up and gathered his swords.  
  
"I would hardly refer to the Shredder as 'just some punk'", Uncle Leo told him, indicating that apparently the Shredder was a big enemy of theirs right now, although he obviously didn't do anything long-lasting, or we would have heard about him growing up.  
  
"No offense, but the Shredder never did anything serious to you. The worst he ever did was cut off Grandfather Splinter's tale, and that hasn't even happened here yet."  
  
"So, what did Saber Khan do? Besides throw you in a time warp?", Uncle Raph asked.  
  
Okay, here it comes. The very awkward and bitter truth.  
  
"Two years ago, in our place, Saber Khan assassinated my uncle, Donatello, on national TV. We've been at war ever since."  
  
More stunned silence, this time with more than one of them gaping at us.  
  
"He assassinated Donatello?", Uncle Leo gasped in a horrified whisper.  
  
"So. . .I'm dead? In your time? I'm dead?", Father asked.  
  
"Yes. I'm very sorry. We promise to avenge you if it's the last thing we do."  
  
As a gesture seemed in need, Chris bowed to him.  
  
"Then. . .this must be so. . .awful for you", father said, staring at us again.  
  
"Yes, well, I think our chances of growing up as well-adjusted adults are pretty much shot", I replied, partially sarcastically. Then I looked away.  
  
He almost looked like he wanted to hug us, but thought better of it.  
  
"That's why it's been so hard to, you know, say anything to you guys. We didn't know what to do, or how to act, and I'm sorry if we messed up your lives here somehow", Chris told them.  
  
"Do not worry", Grandfather replied, "If that is what it takes to destroy this Saber Khan, than so be it. I will travel time, space, worlds and what ever it takes to avenge my son!"  
  
Grandfather looked really, really pissed. I had heard stories of his prowess as a ninja, of course, but since he had died long before I was born I never experienced it. I should say something about that it wasn't exactly his son, in the future, but thought better of it.  
  
They all seemed, with out question, united in this quest now. And it all seemed according to as Donatello said, nothing was exploding, time fabric wasn't ripping, if it did that, and it seemed to make sense, that they were part of our family and were going to help us even if it meant traveling to another time and place to do it. This gave me renewed confidence, for the first time since our father was killed I felt that his vengeance was real, and at hand.  
  
But at the same time I didn't want to go meet up with Romea, Julian and the strange cousins. There was something wrong there, something very, very wrong, and I didn't want to know what it was.  
  
To be continued. . . 


	20. Julian II

Saga of the Next Generation - Julian II By Red Turtle  
  
Just as I was getting a handle on this whole situation, just as I had come to grips with my family's murder, and steeled myself to kill as many of the fuckers as I could, then life has to throw this shit at me. Hordes of human ninjas and a giant mutant lion, that was already beyond what we could handle. Now, surprise, here we have a mutant tiger too. Or something, tiger is just the easiest way to describe it. It's also hard to get a good look at it; already our battle has begun, no time for a freak safari watch. Briefly I entertain myself with the vision of going around to all the dead bodies after we have won, maybe doing a personal autopsy on the lion and the tiger...guess I haven't quite come to grips with my grief just yet.  
  
In the time it takes for me to get up from the wall it threw me into, it has grabbed my cousin Judaism. I leap at it, sword out at its neck, so intent on slicing its head of that it's probably at least a few seconds before I realize that I am now restrained as well, from behind. What now, a bear?  
  
No, the claw grabbing me is white and tiger like. Several more of the creatures come into the room, we are all restrained with extra guards. We are so fucked.  
  
"We're running out of ways to kill you guys", the tigerish thing sneers at Judaism.  
  
It opens its jaw wide enough to almost bite Judaism's head off, and involuntarily I flinch and close my eyes, not wanting to watch the decapitation of my cousin.  
  
"JACK! What did I tell you?!", a voice booms out.  
  
I open my eyes a tiny bit, the vision is blurry but I am, shit, too scared to open them wider. The tiger is still poised with its teeth surrounding Judaism's head, but its eyes now look reluctantly in the direction of the voice.  
  
"Take it out of your mouth now!", the voice booms again.  
  
The tiger removes his teeth, but still holds Judaism captive. I decide to open my eyes wider now that the immediate danger has passed.  
  
"Well, I thought there was a provision if they attacked us-", the tiger stammered.  
  
The source of the voice comes into view. It is another tiger, a tiny bit bigger than the rest and slightly differently colored with lines, but otherwise identical to the others as far as I can tell. It has the aura of being a leader.  
  
"He was going to kill the bird ones anyway-", another ventured, "If they hadn't escaped. So what difference does it make-"  
  
"Would you like to go and ask him yourself?" the lead tiger dared.  
  
There was a noticeable wave of fear through them all, even the one holding me. I really didn't understand this set up, why all these humans and now these monsters were in league with, and even awe of, this lion creature. It had seemed pretty simple, by mutant standards, it didn't have mechanical parts or wings or super powers, and if it hadn't been for all those damn ninja we probably would have beaten the crap out of it.  
  
"Okay then, lets toss them with the others."  
  
This lead tiger approached the computer and started pressing buttons and things. It seemed slightly unsure about what it was doing in that respect, making me very nervous. It was a small enough comfort that maybe the lion knew the full plan when it evaporated my cousins, but if the lead tiger- thing was suppose to evaporate us and messed up...  
  
My mind swan with visions of slow painful disintegration, or appearing in the middle of space, or fusing with a mountain...  
  
I turned to my sister, wanting to remember her should she die or we be otherwise forever separated. After a second of shock from seeing her covered in blood, I was actually very pleased with what I witnessed, given the circumstances. My sister had managed to get her powerful fox-jaw around the wrist of her captor, and currently held him fast in her teeth.  
  
"Please can we kill them?" He asked the leader. He kept his voice steady but his body quivered slightly; obviously it was hurting him a lot.  
  
The lead tiger looked over and saw the predicament.  
  
"You should have accounted for her being a fox, McVeigh", he replied nonchalantly as he activated the pink hole.  
  
They started bringing us over to the hole, to throw us in. My body was, at this point, limp. I couldn't quite work myself up to fight. Suddenly I was filled with visions of my mother and father, and how they were gone, and my little baby brother who was on his way to being the best ninja ever, and my cousins, and how now we ourselves, the last of our kind, we're going to be gone. How empty the world was going to be...  
  
I heard a tremendous noise then, something like squawking and shrieking. Looking over I was temporarily blinded by a swarm of feathers. When that cleared I saw both my bird cousins fighting fiercely, even while still being held by the tigers they were kicking, clawing, and pecking every piece of tiger flesh within reach. The tigers looked very annoyed, and some were showing bleeding wounds (but not as much as the one trapped in Romea's teeth).  
  
"Can't we hurt them just a little-", one of the tigers pleaded.  
  
He was silenced by the glare from the leader. But when Cathy managed to give him a good beak jab in the arm as she was being dragged past, he reached out and swiped her wing. I couldn't see how bad, as a renewed flurry of fur and feathers arose.  
  
So far everyone was making their last stand but me. I was, for the first time in my life, annoyed with my turtle body. I didn't have sharp teeth or claws. My protective shell did nothing here. Or did it?  
  
I allowed myself to be dragged closer. Then, I pulled my legs up partially into my shell. Because my captor had been pushing with all his weight to move me, the sudden loss of resistance caused him to fall forward on me, and again my shell came in handy so I didn't feel him. I managed to kick him in the stomach and then in the head before being roughly grabbed by two of the other ones. I don't think I really hurt him though.  
  
I was thrown backwards into the portal, I think after all my cousins and sister because I didn't see them in the room now, just the tigers. Looking at the room as a whole, I was surprised to see how small they were, barely bigger than I am and I'm not even five feet. In all the chaos I assumed they were like ten feet big or something. I guess the mind can play tricks on you, especially in a fight like that. I should remember this lesson. 


	21. Julian II continued

Julian II Continued - Saga of The Next Generation By: Red Turtle  
  
A/N: Please forgive the delay in this chapter. I was having writers block because, ideally, this chapter should be by Christopher, it's his turn, but, after much thought, I realized that, really, Julian has to tell this part. I didn't want to repost the last section, so I am just adding here. Please be amazed.  
  
Julian II continued:  
  
The Tiger creatures in the room disappear quite suddenly, replaced with just a blue sky. I didn't even feel it, the teleportation or whatever, although there's a lingering sensation of falling. It's only after a harsh landing that I realize I actually was falling.  
  
I hesitantly move my arms and legs and look myself over, making sure I am intact, and not fused with anything. I feel so slow, but its shaking off, and otherwise I seem fine. Then I spread my concern to my sister. I find Romea lying next to me. She's unconscious, initially terrifying me with the amount of blood all over her, until I remember that its' not hers, its from the tiger she bit. Good for her! She's breathing and everything, but has a slight bump near her eyebrow. Maybe she just hit her head when she landed.  
  
"One of those tigers hit her", Judaism tells me from behind. I hadn't even started to think of making sure my cousins were okay, I'm still not used to thinking of them as my family.  
  
"Those fucking tigers! I'm going to fucking kill them!" I vow, yelling into the pleasant blue sky, "and that fucking Lion! That fucking Lion's going to get it!"  
  
"We might have to wait until we heal a little", Judaism remarks.  
  
Its only then that I turn around to see them. Cathy is marked by streaks of blood, and unlike my sister hers is coming from a series of cuts, claw swipes across her chest. And now I see Judaism's left wing is shredded. Geez, I got off easy.  
  
"Any idea where we are?" Cathy inquires as she tends to her injuries with loose cloth.  
  
"No", I answer, "But maybe Chris and the twins are here too. We'll look for them as soon as we get patched up. Then we'll make a plan for revenge – a better one."  
  
Romea groans and begins to stir. I sit by my sister hoping both to do something helpful for her and think of clues to our new location. At least we ended up together.  
  
"This fell out of your sisters pocket as we were fighting. Is it used to communicate with your family?" Catholicism asks, showing one of our cell phones being held in her claw.  
  
"Yes, it's a phone-", I start to explain, remembering I had mine tucked in my sash. That would make some fucking sense, to call them instead of running around-  
  
Just then it rings, and mine too.  
  
Cathy answers it first, since it she was holding it already. There's a slight awkward moment, as she looks at whoever called us. My heart leaps at the idea that maybe, just maybe, one of our other relatives did survive the massacre and has called us, that would be just so, so...awesome.  
  
"Hello. Are you cousins?" Cathy inquires formally.  
  
"Who... ... ...are you Michelangelo's kids?" I hear Donatello or William on the other line (I feel stupid but, even after fourteen years, I can't tell their voices apart. I have to see them to know which is speaking). I'm actually disappointed; since I assumed they were alive already I was really hoping to hear from someone else. But I sense Romea sit up alert beside me. Apparently she is not disappointed.  
  
"Yes, we are. Hello cousins. I am Catholicism. I am with Julian and Romea, and my brother Judaism. We do not know our location, however."  
  
"Donatello? Is that you?" Romea inquires, and grabs the communicator from Cathy, "Donatello, thank god! I am so glad you survived! And William and Christopher, as well? Did they?"  
  
"Yes, we're all here", Christopher responds, opening his own communicator.  
  
I finally get mine out and join in, and Judaism crowds with Romea and Catholicism, but doesn't seem as eager to say anything. Actually, giving him a second glance, he's probably in a lot of pain from his wing, and he looks pale. We should take care of him after this phone call.  
  
"Oh, Chris", Romea sighs, "I'm so happy to see you."  
  
"Listen, Romea, Saber Khan put us in a time warp. It's hard to explain, but can you guys get to that machine and figure out-"  
  
"I'm sorry, Chris, but no, we can't. They used it on us. We're not in that room anymore, and I don't know where we are, or how to get back to him."  
  
There's a slight pause. I don't know about everyone else, but I am just beginning to realize the ramifications of what Chris just said.  
  
"Time warp?" I ask, in a delayed reaction.  
  
"Yes, time warp. We're in New York fifty years ago. We actually hooked up with our family here, if we could get back and join forces with everyone back there, we could really kick Saber Khan's ass!" Chris explained excitedly.  
  
There is another silence. My stomach lurches at the idea of our dead parents coming to fight this battle for us. My heart tightens at their very presence here, the fact that they are now alive in some form...and they don't even know that they're dead! Until this point in the conversation I had actually forgotten, fucking forgotten, that our cousins don't know that our family is all dead. Not just our fathers, but their brothers and sisters, and we have to tell them...shit.  
  
Romea has come back over to me, leaving the communicator with Catholicism, and folds into my chest, sobbing. I go ahead and close my communicator so I can grieve too. We've been holding out on this for quite a while, when we had immediate revenge to focus on, but now, with no revenge at hand and the added burden of bringing this terrible news to our whole family, even the ones that are dead...  
  
I hear Cathy continue the conversation, making a plan to unite us. After she closes the communicator she and Judaism huddle near us. I remember I wanted to check on Judaism, make sure he's okay and all, but just at the moment I can't even open my eyes, all I can do is hold my sister as sobs wrack my body, trying to get everything, all the memories, the sadness and the need to kill out of me before my family shows up. It will be a lot easier to face them if I am empty of all this emotion. 


	22. Christopher V

Christopher V - Saga of the Next Generation By: Red Turtle  
  
Epilog:  
  
When I come back home from my first semester of college, I find Katlin lying on the cozy floor of our living room, drawing bright and happy pictures that reflect her bright and happy state of mind, much improved with the now continuous presence of our parents who no longer have to spend time away from us searching for their arch enemy. Mom demonstrates her mastery in ballet classes, something she and Dad took up after Saber-Khan's defeat, sort of a mid-life crisis. Saber Khan's mounted head hangs over the fireplace, a permanent monument to the power of three generations of ninjas coming together.  
  
The living room is so warm and inviting I just have to sit down. A bad idea though, as it immediately ruins the image and I find myself sitting in sewer water.  
  
"You okay, Christopher?" my past-uncle Mike inquires, helping me back up.  
  
"Yeah, just stumbled", I reply.  
  
Once I find my footing, I try to return to my dream of the future. I can't help it, this is already in the bag and I'm already envisioning how to spend the rest of the day. I suppose we will have to return everyone to their original place, but first at least we shall have dinner. All of the little uns shall have a chance to meet their Grandfather, oh, he will love Rowdie, I know. Anna and Marie shall be held by their Dad for the only time in their lives, and he'll impart some good morals on Chicken and Pie. Katlin will have two Daddies, which should keep her happy for a bit. JB and Mickey will probably be awkward around this sober incarnation of their Dad, and by the time they warm up to him he'll have to go. But it will be a good experience in their lives. It will be a great experience for all of us.  
  
"Chris", one of the twins whispers in my ear.  
  
"What?" I reply, annoyed at the present reality. I'm especially annoyed at Donatello and William for not being as confident as I am; in fact they look very distressed. This isn't that hard, its like boom, we get Julian and Romea and those other cousins, boom we get back to that time with Saber Khan, and boom, we destroy him and his little base, and boom, we get on with out lives. I would think they more than anyone would be a little excited to see this almost over.  
  
"Chris", Donatello moves in and puts an arm around me, a gesture that didn't indicate deep friendship but a move to better be able to whisper in my ear, "didn't you notice how Romea and Julian were acting? Didn't you notice our Nepalese cousins?"  
  
I had seen Romea and Julian start to cry, but I didn't want to remember it. I don't like to see others in pain.  
  
"Look, they're lost and they probably got beaten up pretty bad, but when we get to them, and when they see all our parents and Grandfather with us, they'll realize that we're going to win, and they won't be upset anymore", I assured him.  
  
Donatello's hand squeezed my shoulder a little, not painfully but uncomfortable.  
  
"Did they cry at my fathers funeral?" he asked.  
  
That took me by surprise. I had to think about it. Romea, Romea defiantly cried the day we found out, although she kept to her room and didn't want anyone to know (Me and Julian were the only ones she allowed to console her). By the funeral she had gained her composure. Julian I'm not sure, I would think he did privately. Neither of them were much for expressing emotions publicly, I'm not sure why but they always had an attitude about them that they were tough or something.  
  
"Well, they did cry at some point", I said falteringly, wondering where this was going. Donatello has a way of drawing you into conversation and springing a profound point on you, and if he did that here it would probably be to destroy my plan for happiness.  
  
"Did our cousins from Nepal come to the funeral?" he asked.  
  
"No", I replied. They definitely had not.  
  
"Then why are they here now, and why are Romea and Julian crying?" he asked, in his QED manner, but not as enthusiastically.  
  
"I don't know. It probably has something to do with Saber Khan. They'll tell us when we get there." I replied.  
  
"Be prepared for what we're going to find out", he warned sadly, and left my side to seek his twins comfort. William was upfront leading the way to the homing signal.  
  
After that chilling discussion I found it impossible to place myself in a happy future, but I did manage to get that song from before stuck in my head:  
  
My name is Superman, I'm here to rescue you,  
  
I am Superman, goddamn it, and I'm going to rescue everybody.  
  
This is the mindset I'm in when at last we reach the rooftop of the building our cousins are hiding on. We had to go in a creative way, I hadn't fully realized how complicated things were back in the 2000s, with not being able to just walk or drive where you wanted to go. After pinpointing the location we had to climb up a building several blocks away and maneuver carefully over the rooftops, avoiding windows and skylights that mean nothing in my lifetime, but here are almost certain death.  
  
Julian and Romea come out from a staircase enclave and stare at the glory of our past fathers and Grandfather. Julian looks alright (aside from the indications that he was crying hard), but Romea has a cloth strip on her head, and a fair amount of blood all over her. The other two cousins cautiously creep out, one has only one wing, the other partially wrapped in cloth and the other has a series of cuts across the chest, probably from Saber Khan rather than a ninja weapon.  
  
Okay, this is going to be harder than I originally thought.  
  
"It is an honor to meet you, my grandchildren, and I only regret that it is under these dire circumstances", Grandfather Splinter greets them, bowing low.  
  
Surprisingly, Romea and Julian return the bow, with a flitting glimpse at their Dad here, and then looking to the ground. Mike's children stare in shock.  
  
"You...if you're a rat then how did you...you're a rat?" one of them sputters.  
  
"Yes. I am you're grandfather in every respect but biology", he answered.  
  
"Oh", he replied, still looking shocked.  
  
"Please excuse us", the other one said, "Its just that, well, we never thought we were related to a rat. We eat rats."  
  
"You didn't know about Master Splinter?" my past-dad gasps, as if this is unthinkable. Which it would be, had they grown up in our house around all of us, Grandfather Splinter was as basic as reading and math.  
  
"Our lives are all very different, more than you can imagine", the one continued, "I'm Catholicism. I'm Michelangelo's daughter, and he is Michelangelo's son, Judaism."  
  
"Are you birds?" past-uncle Mike asks in amazement.  
  
"Yes. We are descended from the Kiticha people of Nepal."  
  
"Wow", Mike replies.  
  
"And are you my children?" past-uncle Raphael asks, obviously seeing some resemblance in Julian, who is his clone, after all.  
  
At this Julian and Romea both look away.  
  
"Yeah, kinda", Julian mutters.  
  
"This is Julian and Romea", I introduce after a moment of awkward silence, "And they're trained as ninja's too, nothing like you guys or our parents back home, of course, but with all of us we'll be able to-"  
  
"Ain't no all of us", Julian interrupts, very quietly.  
  
"-Well, not here, we got to get back home first, and then we can-"  
  
"Ain't no all of us anywhere", Julian interrupts again.  
  
Well, that doesn't make any sense. Maybe he doesn't realize that we're just in a little time warp, and we can get back to the others.  
  
"Listen, Christopher, all of you..." Romea starts to say.  
  
"Yes", my past-Dad presses her after a moment, "We're listening. We're here to help."  
  
"Oh", she moans, taking a shaky breathe, "I'm sorry, this is just-I don't know how to handle this".  
  
I thought she was going to regain her composure, but instead she looked over at past-uncle Don and then curled up in a ball on the floor. I sat down beside her and tried to hold her, because she is like a sister to me and I can't stand to see her in pain.  
  
"In our original time, your enemies have killed all of our family. We had seeked revenge on them, in the fight we were thrown back here."  
  
"What?" I asked, since I obviously didn't hear something right.  
  
"Your family is dead, Chris. Your parents, Julian and Romea's parents, all you're brothers and sisters. They killed our mother and our brother too. If we are to defeat this enemy, it will only be with those we have here."  
  
Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss...  
  
A thud snaps me out of the trance I had entered. It is past-uncle Mike, now on his knees, his eyes closed, it almost looks like he's praying, although I never knew any of us to be particularly religious. Donatello and William have embraced each other, and allowed their past-father to sort of join them in their circle. The others all look similarly stricken, feeling our anguish even though they don't actually know any of us. Grandfather takes a deep sigh.  
  
"Can you tell us more about this enemy, so that we can find a way to defeat him? How was he able to overcome all of you?"  
  
I can't believe I'm sitting here with Romea in my arms, listening to my long-dead grandfather discuss ninja revenge strategy with two cousins I never even met before. And, if this is true, than what's left for us back there anyway? What's the point of killing Saber Khan if not for all of them?  
  
"We don't know how it was done", Catholicism continues, "We...found them."  
  
"And there's more. He has an army of mutant tigers too. He has an army of humans and an army of tigers." Julian ventured.  
  
"And he has a lot of technology. Doing this to us was quite...impressive", Judaism added.  
  
"But there is one thing we have that he will never have", Grandfather Splinter told us.  
  
"What's that?" I choked, having lost my ability to talk normally.  
  
"We have honor", Grandfather told me, with a resolute pound of his staff on the ground.  
  
To be continued yet... 


	23. Michelangelo II

Saga of the Next Generation – By Red Turtle

A/N: As it's been quite a while, you all might want to take a minute and review some of what's happened so far. It didn't win most complex plot award for nothing, after all.

Michelangelo II

"…Honor."

If my ninja heart needed any more strength, it got it from hearing Master Splinter say that one word. For a moment I think back over my long life, almost forgetting the present until Shiitake squirms in my arms.

I open my eyes, which I had reflectively closed as Endrame had taken off. His mode of travel is very fast and dizzying.

That's when I see Master Splinter before me, in all of his glory, sun shining down on him and everything.

I want to rush up and hug him, and I would have if he had been alone, but he is surrounded by our family, not just my brothers and me as teenagers (Don too!), but Chris, Romea, Julian, Donatello and William, and two others I don't recognize. They look like more of Endrame's relatives, with dragonish faces and wings…wait…are those my kids? They have beaks, and feathers…but I thought there were three of them.

It's all too surreal; we stare at each other for a long time in silence. I realize that our sudden entrance here was probably quite a shock for the others, and I am just as shocked to see both generations together like this. I am awed by the sight of Don, and especially here with his two sons being almost the same age, they look like triplets, except of course Don is wearing is purple ninja garb and the twins are not wearing masks of any type. And Raphael and Julian actually don't look as much alike as I thought they would, seeing them at almost the same age I realized how much more muscular Raphael was, he was a lot bigger than Julian even here Julian should be at least a year or two older, I'd always assumed since they were clones they would look exactly the same.

I take another moment of silence when I realize that Jellybean and Michelob are not here. But these other two are technically my kids, perhaps its not too late to form a relationship with them.

I also noticed the flicker that went through everyone's' eyes when we showed up. Christopher looks genuinely happy to see me, but the others…damned if I didn't detect a hint of disappointment in their eyes. Even in those of my kids. Almost makes me want to crack open a beer.

As if on cue, Master Splinter quashes that sentiment.

"I am glad you have survived, Michelangelo", he tells me, with a slight bow. And my brothers, along my past self, as strange as it was, also bowed their head to me in respect.

The children all followed suit, regardless of what they thought of me.

TBC…

(Yes, I know, that was pretty short)

1


	24. Shiitake

Sage of the Next Generation – Shiitake

By Red Turtle

A/N: I think I said this somewhere else, but just so you all know, Shiitake's name is from the type of Mushroom and has nothing to do with Iraq. The names of all four quadruplets were Shiitake, Miitake, Rainbow and Acorn, and they lived with their mother in China, only seeing the rest of the family at the funeral, when they were six, and never having seen their father in person.

The story continues…

I have now completely traded one family for another.

I remember some of them from our fathers' funeral. I remember my eldest half-brothers, twins like all of us, except with dragons you get two sets of twins. One had seen the murder, the other hadn't. And the foxes I remember. There was a boy fox, a cousin about our age who was the only one to talk to us. It wasn't personal, the others were all so sad, they hardly noticed us, or my mother and she is a giant flying dragon.

Was a giant flying dragon.

I don't remember this Uncle Michelangelo. I don't remember this dragon-horse brother. I sort of remember Simon, but only that he seemed the saddest of everyone at the funeral. Maybe he was a lover.

Uncle Michelangelo dismounts Endrame, still carrying me. I don't think I can move yet, and when I try to turn my neck to see all of us standing here it stings. The physical pain keeps me immobilized, but there is something else to. I am scared. Uncle Michelangelo's heartbeat is very comforting right now, and I can't bear to leave it.

"Who is that?" one with the black bandana asks. I don't remember if he was at the funeral. The other family is so big.

"This is Shiitake. He's one of Don's kids…and this is Endrame, he's uh…he's like Don's stepson."

"And what about him?" another asks, this one wearing a red bandana. This one looks like one of my other uncles, but he must be a son because he is much too young.

"Oh", Uncle Mike exclaims, "Geez, this is Simon. He's been our friend for, like, ages, but…I guess it was after this time here…"

"Its good to see you again, Donatello", Simon tells one of the others (I guess he's speaking to my half brother who is named after our father, but he seems to be directing his greeting to another young turtle guy standing next to them, wearing a purple mask.)

"Uh, its nice to see you too", the other responds.

So maybe our Dad had even more kids, and maybe more than one was named after him. This could get confusing.

"Simon, you know he's not exactly the same-", Uncle Michelangelo starts to say.

"Its still nice to see him again", Simon responds rather sharply.

There was a pause then. I pick up a sense of discomfort. It suddenly occurs to me that whatever attacked me in China probably attacked everyone else. They probably all just lost their mothers. They're all certainly sad enough, even more so than at my fathers funeral. This makes me feel a little different; that my mother and siblings death might not have been the worst thing to happen here, and in fact no one was even talking about it.

"How did you get here?" someone asks. I didn't see whom; I had closed my eyes and hugged uncle Michelangelo tighter. I hope that nothing happens to him.

"My father is a Nexus Spirit, and granted me some ability to travel across time and space. I was able to rescue these family members and this seemed like the most natural place to bring them. Perhaps from here we can think of how to stop this enemy", Endrame explained.

For a minute I open my eyes to confirm that actually, I am not anywhere near my home. I hadn't realized it. I thought I had been asleep and we had traveled to a city, but if I put my mind to it I can see the sun and sky is very different, and…the smell. I can't believe I didn't notice it before, but there is nothing that smells like this in China, and in fact it does smell like the part of America where the funeral was.

So, if Endrame took us that far across space…did he take us across time as well?

"Wait a minute…you time travel? Well, ssshhhiiiiitttt, why don't you just go stop Saber Khan from killing Donatello in the first place! In fact, just take us all to him right before he does it, and we'll fucking kick the-"

"Dear relatives, I cared for Donatello very much, and if I could do that I would have done so immediately after it had happened", Endrame replies, "And I would also wish to save my own mother. But navigating time does not work in such a simple fashion. I can bring us back to our time stream, but it will be a point after the slaying of our families."

"Besides, even in time travel we still move in a continuous motion", one of my twin brothers says, "We can't undo what happened to us, it will still have happened to us. The simplest way to explain it is to look at a string and place all the quantum-"

The brother abruptly stopped talking after a glare from a red-masked turtle. The black-masked cousin slid to the ground, looking very lost and sad.

"We have a time-traveling horse and we can't do anything good with it?", He asked dejectedly. The blue-masked turtle tried to comfort him.

Endrame snorted.

"I can take us to a nexus point with Saber Khan, and as you know our entrance will be a surprise. This point will be a few months in the future from where you last were, which will create a gap in your overall lives, but…it is doable and I believe your best option."

"Even with all of us here, and with the element of surprise…I don't believe we can defeat Saber Khan's army. I'm sorry, Grandfather Splinter, but I don't think honor is enough either", the fox said, "He has many human ninjas, and he has those tigers…"

As she said this she wearily felt her forehead. I then started to look at them all more closely, and saw the many scars of battle on my cousins and brothers. They had been through what I had been through. My injury seems mild in comparison.

As if to contradict that remark my neck flares up in pain again. I curl against Uncle Michelangelo for support.

And then I think…grandfather? Is she talking about the rat? I don't remember anything about a rat in the family, and I don't remember him being at the funeral. But I do remember Uncle Leonardo's eulogy, and that he mentioned the name Splinter a lot.

"We need to think of a plan", the blue masked turtle announces, "Endrame, do we have…the time to strategize?"

"From this point we can all stay here for weeks with out disrupting anything. It would only depend on how quickly we want to be done with this once and for all, and to proceed with our normal lives. I for one, cannot begin to grieve for my mother and half-siblings while their vengeance is so imminent. And, I imagine that this poses a…strange burden on those of you from this time stream."

"Good", the blue-clad turtle affirmed, he was the only one looking optimistic in this whole thing, "Our biggest disadvantage right now is that we don't know each other. Even all of you from the same time don't know each other. If we don't know our strengths and weaknesses, we won't be able to make a plan that will work. That, and, we need to take the time to heal some of you. It won't do any good to lead you into battle if you can't fight."

"How long do you think that will take", the slightly-older red masked turtle asked wearily.

"I forget, you're Raphael's' son, right?", the blue turtle replied sort of sarcastically.

Both red-masked turtles narrowed their eyes in response.

Everyone began moving around. The orange-turtle laid out some medical supplies, basic things like cloth and herbs. Someone was able to quickly procure water, and we all gathered around in a sort of circle, with those needing the most help with their wounds lying down. The fox was covered in a lot of blood, but that easily came off , and she mainly seemed to be okay. I wanted to ask her where the little boy fox was, but I could not talk because of the pain. I noticed that my twin brothers already were bandaged, they must have arrived earlier.

Uncle Michelangelo came up to them.

"Can you guys hold him? I want to help take care of the others", he asked.

I immediately clung to him, because I didn't want to be let go of, even for the seconds it would take for one of them to take me.

"Hey", he cooed at me, "Little dude, you're okay. These are your brothers. Don't you remember them?"

I did remember them, but I did not want to be held by them. Besides, I barely knew them, I had only met them at the funeral, and one didn't talk to us at all, the other hugged us, thanked us, and left. Uncle Michelangelo had already done more than that in the brief time I had known him.

"Can I hold him", another voice asked shyly.

I looked up to see the other turtle, the one that was also Donatello, and before I knew it I had been transferred from Uncle Michelangelo to him. He held me firmly, and I laid my head so I could hear his heartbeat. A wave of missing-my-mom washed over me in a shudder. He hugged me a little tighter.

"This is kind of weird", Uncle Michelangelo told him

"I'm sorry about what happened to me", he replied.

"You're just making this weirder, dude", Uncle Michelangelo sighed.

The one holding me shrugged, which I felt.

Uncle Michelangelo moved on to help with the injuries. The one holding me carefully looked under the towel at my neck.

"So you're name is Shiitake", he said, "I'm sort of your father, you know."

No, I did not know that. My father is dead. I stared at him.

"I don't think he knows he went back in time", one of the twins said.

"Yeah, Shiitake, we're way back in time. And this is our Father from a long time ago."

"Before he was our father."

"So he's not really our father, but-"

They both look over at him.

"but he kind of is", they say together.

I look back up at him. So that was why he was called Donatello, not because he's a son. And that's why there are two red-clad turtles, ones a cousin and ones a sort-of uncle. The rat is our grandfather who must have been dead by the time of the funeral, and all the relatives I don't recognize are probably from this past instead of my time. I don't know about the two bird things though, but I don't have a way to ask. Throat hurts too much.

I hug my sort-of father. He seems like a nice guy, he's a very good holder. He has me in one arm and runs the other hand over one of my wings.

"How come you guys don't have wings?", he asks the other two.

"We have different mothers", one replies, "Our mother is human, and his mother is a dragon."

Was a dragon, I correct silently, blinking back tears.

"Wow. I had two wives", he said, obviously impressed.

"Actually, you didn't marry his mother", one says, "You were already married at that time."

"I cheated on your mother?", he exclaimed, "Man, I am so sorry."

I looked over at the twins, one of whom was rolling his eyes while the other attempted to explain more of the family relationships, which I did not know. I remembered we had a picture of some of them somewhere, and had sent them a picture of us, but Mom had never told me anything else. Dragon families don't usually have fathers living with them, so I never thought it was odd.

"No, you cheated on Chicken and Pie's mother…", a twin corrected.

"Actually, you cheated on our Mom too, you just didn't have any kids that time."

"And then there's Tatiana, that was your last wife."

"I don't think you cheated on her."

"Well, you didn't have much of a chance. You had only just married her…"

They dropped silent. I curled back into fathers embrace and he petted me gently on the arm.

"So how many kids did I have?", he asked, "I mean, not me, because I wouldn't…well, how many are there?"

"Ten. But to be fair, we're all twins, or quadruplets like him."

"He was a quadruplet?", he sighed, holding me a little tighter.

"Yeah."

"Poor kid", they said together, and I feel more hands petting me on the back.

"At least we didn't lose each other", one murmured.

"I mean I'll miss Chicken and Pie-"

"And Anna and Marie-"

"But…you know, we're closer to each other than we were to…"

They fell silent again.

Sort-of father shifted me in his arms.

"I can't change what already happened, but I'll do everything I can to make this right", he said, I think to all of us.

To be continued…


	25. Julian III

The Saga of the Next Generation - Red Turtle

A/N: I know that its suppose to be Romea's turn, but, we discussed it and decided that Julian was going to tell this part. There's a 90 chance that Romea will be the conclusion of the story.

And, um, I, eh...I still like reviews, you know. Just so you all are aware. Cause I'd like to know if people are still reading and did any new people hook into it? Stuff like that. Also its hard for the author to objectively review their own writing. I know character death can be rough, and some people might not be able to handle it, but, if you all are still with me, This story shall not end in utter tragedy.

And now for...

Julian:

My past family is really quite awesome.

I never thought about it before, but they had to be some bad-ass ninja's just to get by in this country. And they grew up with just each other against the whole world.

No wonder Uncle Leo (Rest In Peace) was always stressing family. And no wonder Romea and I stressed him out so much, because we didn't understand family. We had eachother, and that was good enough. In our world, Uncle Leo used to take us aside and lecture us about being role models and looking out for our younger brother and cousins, and we would generally roll our eyes until he went away.

And for the longest time he would give me lectures about being nice to Chris, that Chris was practically my brother and he and I had to be able to count on each other. For the beginning part of my childhood Chris and I were the only turtles, and I think Uncle Leo wanted us to bond the way he and my father did. He worked very hard trying to create that bond. He would take us to museums and fairs for the purpose of giving us common experiences. Romea wasn't mainly included in these excursions, I guess having a fox-sister didn't quite fit into his vision, and she was more interested in hanging out with Mom anyway. It was three years before even the twins were born, and another five before my own brother was born or most of the other family. So for a while Chris and I were the main focus for Uncle Leo.

These outings were very important to Uncle Leo, but ultimately they didn't work. Chris and I were never going to be as close as our fathers, partly because we didn't have to be. In our time we could go to school and have friends and all kinds of things I took for granted until I really saw how our fathers had to live.

By the time Chris was thirteen, and I was twelve, we knew that we weren't going to be friends. But we continued the ritual of letting Uncle Leo take us places and talk about how important brothers (or cousins) were.

This came to an end when he took us to see a movie about some superheroes saving Earth from these really, really cool badguys. I cheered for the bad guys, and when I got back home I told Romea how great they were, and together we went out and bought some toys and a poster. In retaliation Chris bought toys and a poster of the superhero guy. Somehow this simple act became a rivalry, escalating to Romea and I dressing up like the bad guys and drawing their symbol on all of our notebooks and everything else, including the bathroom mirror after my shower.

Uncle Leo took me aside and told me that I needed to appreciate Chris more, that he was right about this matter.

Of course that just made things worse. Soon Romea and I were taking up every bad guy we saw on television and teasing Chris about it.

Chris began reciting the superhero's mantra before we ate dinner.

So I finally took it upon myself to fling my mashed potatoes at him.

Now, of course all the adults were shocked at my actions. I was even a little shocked myself. And I knew I was going to be in trouble for it.

I thought my Dad was going to yell at me, ground me for a month. My mom was probably going to give me an "I'm disappointed in you" lecture.

But instead it was Uncle Leo who pulled me out of the dining room.

"Julian, this has to stop, you can't be a bad guy any longer."

"Why not?" I asked, in my twelve-year-old smart ass way.

He took out his sword and pinned me to the wall.

"Because we're the good guys, and we kill bad guys", he told me.

I didn't have any smart-ass comments for that. But I thought it he was whack, you know. I thought he was crazy. I just stopped talking to him at all after that.

Here, in this setting, Uncle Leo makes sense.


	26. Christopher VI

The Saga of The next Generation

By Red Turtle

Christopher VI:

The Uncle Mikes led our medical team, a very unreal experience, as they seemed almost able to work in unison. Our uncle mike, the older one, whose entrance was truly of a hero, on a winged horse and everything, particularly amazed me.

I barely remember Simon, I may have met him all of five times in my life, and have never talked to him. Currently he's assisting me with Judaism, giving him aspirin for the pain and treating him for shock while I do the actual sewing of the wound.

I never thought that blood could be a comforting thing. But sewing up Judaism's wing with literally a large needle and floss proved to be quite therapeutic. I concentrated on keeping the stitches close and tight, on constantly sterilizing everything and at the same time monitoring his condition. In this way I kept my mind occupied and my hands busy so I wouldn't go crazy.

As I tied the last knot in a true Boy Scout fashion, knowing it had to keep tied for at least a few weeks for him to heal properly, I realized I was no longer squinting in a dim electric glow of the city. The sun had risen, Albright still early. It was hard to tell because of the tall building, but after the last stitch I looked around and confirmed the natural source of light.

It's been several hours since this ordeal began and a wave of exhaustion comes over me. Looking around, half of our team has fallen asleep, the rest wearily keeping guard. Our Uncle Mike gives Judaism's wing a final wash in alcohol and declares the task finished.

My…not sure what to call him, I suppose he's the only Dad now, consults with Endame regarding the time (here or there, I'm not sure).

"Should we rest before attempting this…" he asks, I think, all of us.

"What? How can we rest now?" Uncle Raph or Julian objects. They are so identical here, and I'm too tired to verify which one it is.

"Looks like we already are", Past-uncle Mike points out.

Catholicism is asleep, as is Donatello, William, their little brother and their past Dad. Judaism is wavering; I think pain is the only thing keeping him up.

I feel very much like sleeping myself, if only I could be assured of a totally dreamless state, where I wouldn't think about my family at all. Then I could wake up in a much better state for revenge.

"Well, whatever we do, we can't rest here", Uncle Leo says, and starts to wake everyone up.

"I have thought of a point to take us", Endame announces, "Somewhere where we should be more welcome, and able to rest."

"Sounds good", Uncle Raph (I confirmed, he's slightly bigger than Julian) states, and helps Leo with waking everyone up.

Soon we are all gathered before Endame. The sun is getting higher, I sense some urgency in moving on, and if only off this rooftop so we're not seen. But it seems like it would be hard to move this large of a team around unseen into the sewers. And then we wouldn't really all fit in their liar, so that doesn't make sense anyway. If Endame can transport us somewhere all at once that seems like the best option.

I hope he take us to the land of really soft pillows and no dreams.

I stifle a yawn. Even though others have been actually sleeping, it's almost treasonous to yawn at a time like this, when more than half your family has been destroyed.

"Where will you be taking us?" Our Uncle Mike inquires, "Where else can we go?"

"I can reach one more member of our family, Leonardo's daughter who survives until well into the future. The nexus I can reach her at is over 100 years away from this current time, I believe that there we can at least rest in the world free of danger from Khan or from…society. And perhaps she can join us in our return."

"I thought Katlin was killed", I say, suddenly ballooning with hope. Oh, I was going to hug her so hard, even if it was a future her.

"This is another daughter of Leonardo's", Endrame explained, "One conceived much before your time."

"But Dad didn't have any other kids."

I quickly glanced at past-Dad, as if he could confirm this.

Awkward silence.

Was that a blush on Uncle Leo's face? It's hard to tell with turtles. I could just be imagining it…

"Leo?" Our Uncle Mike exclaims, seeing the blush.

"I…you said this wasn't like… the same time stream or whatever. So its not like I here have any kids in the future, right?."

"You're time streams are forward-moving, that is correct. However your pasts are all the same from this point. Therefore if you have a child now if will be the child you will see in the future, although it may ultimately grow a different way in its own time stream. That is why traveling to the future can be more complicated. You must prepare yourselves for what you will see, and that you can not change or prepare for it."

"You have a kid now?" Past uncle mike asked Leo, as everyone, including me, was still focused on this revelation.

"I…no, I don't, I just, um, I might…"

Stunned silence. My Dad had another kid! He never even told me! And he's so young!

"Look, it was a beautiful act of love, it just happened last night and I didn't expect to have to tell everyone about it", he explained, now definately blushing. His face was turning orange..

More stunned silence. Admittedly, some of us were more stunned than others. I was pretty stunned, but I finally had the discretion to look away and pretend that I wasn't. If I ever have sex, I wouldn't want to then have to tell three generations of my family about it the next day.

"Can we just go?", He asked, herding us towards Endame.

We all began to move. It wasn't like mind-blowing events weren't happening all around us anyway, what difference does one more make.

"I warn you all once more, this is the future. It will be difficult to understand and adjust, but we will not be there long. Now, everyone, hold hands."

We all hold hands, with the two Mikes holding onto Endame and completing the circle.

Swirls of light surround us. I close my eyes at the really dizzying parts.

TBC


	27. Michelangelo III

Saga of the Next Generation

By Red Turtle (who even though she has 70 reviews already hasn't gotten many lately and eagerly awaits more to sustain an ego large enough to finish the story)

Michelangelo III:

Wooo, here we go again.

Though my eyes are shut, I know when we land in the new world. The air changes into something new, and fresh. Sun hits my skin, birds sing nearby, and soft, silky grass embraces my feet.

Awesome.

I open my eyes and behold this future. I'd been expecting the planet to be worse, the air filled with smog, the sun either scorching hot from lack of ozone or else blocked out by smog, the birds dead, and steel covering it all. Instead I find green grass, blue skies, white clouds, trees, birds…

And a group of stunned humans and mutants surrounding us. Endame must make quite an entrance.

"Hello", Endame greets them, "Forgive our abrupt appearance. We're looking for a female mutant turtle here."

I turn around slowly, taking in the beauty of the future. The inhabitants are quite beautiful as well, the humans mostly young and with a healthier look to them then most humans I've ever seen in my time. They're definitely more in shape, and…I believe they're actually standing straighter. They're more alert, and just…so different.

This change in the human population amazes me more than the mutants with them. I guess being a mutant myself I wouldn't find them so interesting anyway. Mostly bears, which fits with the rise in mutant bears in my own time. There aren't any foxes through. A cat, and a couple of dogs (never seen mutant dogs before) and a few different birds.

I don't see any turtles.

"Are you looking for Huxley Ann?" someone asks cautiously.

"I don't know her name", Endame explains, "But I have bought her family here for her. We would like to talk to her."

Some of them leave the group, apparently to go get her for us.

The rest continue staring.

"So, what year is this, exactly?" Leo asks after a moment.

"2103."

"A.D.?" Leo clarifies.

"What's A.D.?"

Before anyone can answer, a female turtle joins the circle. She stares at us intensely.

"I thought you were all dead", she declares, "Saber Khan killed all of you back in…way back…like fifty years ago."

"He did kill several members of your family in your time", Endame explained, "But I have some time-traveling ability and managed to rescue some of them. I also gathered those from the past, and we have come here seeking your assistance."

"What do you need?" she asks.

"We need a safe place to rest", Christopher interrupts, "By the way, I'm your…little brother, Christopher."

He reaches out and shakes hands with Huxley Ann.

"I've never met any of you", she says, "I never even met my own father."

"Well, one of them is here for you", Endame says.

We begin to break out of our large group and settle down to rest on the hill. Some of the others bring us food, fresh fruit and cooked fish. No wonder they're so healthy, there doesn't seem to be any candy bars or soda anywhere around.

"Where are we?" I ask one of the humans.

"Estoria", she replies.

"I'm sorry, where is that?"

"Um…it's, uh…used to be called Dee-trot, I think. It's in that area."

My jaw dropped.

"This used to be Detroit? For real?"

"Yeah. Near Canada, right? Canada's still over there."

I looked where she pointed, and I could just barely make out high-rises in the distance.

"Wow", I sighed.

"Yeah, your world was really messed up, huh", she agreed, "I was raised in this one, but I read history books. How could you stand it?"

"I don't know", I told her.

I was thinking about how I was going to stand going back.

Eventually I fell asleep for a while. When I awoke it was dark, and everyone else was gathered with the others around a fire, where I saw they were making a nice pot of soup, the smell of which is what woke me up.

As I stretched I looked up, and almost fell over in surprise. So that's what stars really look like! They looked so bright I swear I could reach up and touch them. I even tried.

Amazing.

"Hey, uh, me, are you going to have any soup?", my past self calls out.

"Yeah, sure."

He/I poured me a bowl.

"Aren't the stars awesome?" I asked my past self.

"Yeah, I already spent, like and hour being amazed by them."

I didn't really talk to anyone else as I ate. It was all so overwhelming, there were so many of us and so much going on. I mainly watched Splinter. It was so nice to see him again, and remember how great a father he had been. I should hug him before we all go.

Huxley Ann (I still can't believe Leo!) rang a bell to get everyone's attention.

"We should talk about this Saber Khan situation", she announced.

Endame became our official spokesperson, relating our history to the others, most of who had never even heard of us, and telling Huxley details that she didn't know. I wonder where she was living when all this was going on, cause Leo never said a word about her, and she didn't seem to have ever heard a word about him. I tuned out for a while; I didn't want to lose my edge from being consumed by thoughts about the past.

"So, can you join us in this quest?" I heard Christopher saying, "We need all the help we can get, even if you're not a ninja."

"What's the point?" Julian suddenly interrupted, surprising me, "It's hopeless. Even with her help, we still have to go up against a whole army. We'll be slaughtered."

"Ah, dude", one of the humans said, "We are an army."

A series of clicks and snaps followed the announcement. Although impossible to see in the dark, I realized everyone was cocking their guns.

"I think that's your answer", Huxley Ann replied, brandishing her own gun.

Major Awesome!

TBC…


	28. Donatello II

The Saga of the Next Generation

By: Red Turtle

(A/N: Well, I've been writing this story for about two and a half years now. Thanks everyone who's stayed with me, checking in hopefully between updates and all. It's finally almost done, just one more chapter after this.

Here we have the voice of Donatello the second as the final confrontation between the turtles' family and Saber Khan takes place. It's a bit chaotic, so chaotic that someone had to help me write some of the action sequences. Thanks buddy.

As always, please review.)

Donatello:

The sounds of guns cocking awed me. It meant love, real love. These guys didn't even know us, but just on the basis of us being Huxley Anne's very distant relatives they were willing to lay their lives down for us. I wiped a tear away, and looked to William to see him also wiping his eyes. I resisted the impulse to hold his hand, although it would have provided some stability. This whole future was just so awesome.

"So we've got an army," snapped Julian. "Big fat fucking hairy deal. We're just gonna give them more targets, is all we're gonna do."

"Uh, excuse me, you don't think this is worth anything?" called one of the soldiers as a red dot suddenly appeared right between Julian's eyes. His eyes crossed as he tried to see what everyone was staring at, and uncrossed when he noticed the bright red laser sight leveled at his face. "There's nothing alive as can handle having three quarters of its brains turned to mush and blasted out the back of its skull. Not in the future and defiantly not in the past."

Julian said nothing, and the laser dot vanished.

"Besides, with all of them against his grunts, we'll be able to focus on the real task at hand" Romea stated, twirling her katana threateningly.

"We still need a plan," said only uncle Leonardo.

"I have given it some thought," said Endrame. "I can either teleport us all directly into the heart of Saber Khan's home; using the element of surprise we may be able to take him out quickly. Or I can take us back to the area outside Khan's fortress, and we can sneak in from there, eliminating his army as we go. I warn those of you from the 2050s generation, you will lose about three months when I do this, it is an unavoidable side effect of such leaping."

"I fear a direct leap into his lair would be suicidal", Splinter says, "The outside approach is much preferable. It will allow us to use the art of ninjitzu."

Julian snorted. "Fat lot of good all that ninja sneaking shit did us last time. Let's just get inside so we can all die and get it over with."

Boy, he'd gotten pretty pessimistic. I could tell past-only-uncle Raph wanted to smack his cloned son upside the head, but Julian's head was too far out of reach.

"The plan is to not have all of us die", Chris pointed out.

"We could actually try a full frontal assault," said Huxley Ann.

"Are you insane?" retorted Romea. "Khan's place is a fortress. We'd never get past his security."

Someone among the human soldiers chuckled. "There ain't a piece of security equipment in this time period that I can't disable. I'm guessin' the antiques the bastard we're after uses ain't even worthy of bein' museum pieces anymore. I can get us inside, provided you lot can kill the baddies."

Endame paused. "That certainly would take Khan and his forces by surprise, especially when he is quite sure that he's eliminated all his enemies. It is quite possible that security will be lax at his fortress…"

"And even if it is not, those of us trained in the arts of ninjitsu can eliminate the perimeter guards," said Splinter. "The Way of Invisibility made ninjas of ancient China and Japan the most feared assassins in the ancient East."

"They won't know what hit 'em," grinned our not really uncle Raphael, flashing his sais.

"So it's settled, then," said Huxley Ann. "Grandfather, you and your sons will handle the perimeter guards. Hollen, you'll take down the tech in the installation. Bisenti and Robett will cover you. The rest of us will take whatever cover's available until the all-clear is given."

"How shall we rejoin you, once our task is done?" asked uncle Leonardo.

"We'll follow the bodies," replied Huxley Ann briskly, "Okay, you all, listen up! We leave in five! Fourth squad, you'll carry demolitions and heavy weapons. Third squad, you'll serve as escorts to Fourth squad. First and second squads, I want a mix of heavy automatics, shotguns, repeating rifles, and all the ammo you can carry. I'll leave weapon assignments up to the squad leaders! Move it!"

Huxley Ann took us through her platoon's armory after her soldiers grabbed the gear they needed. Those of us who had somehow lost their weapons or never brought them to begin with picked up replacements from a rather limited stock of melee weapons. William found a dozen oddly-shaped throwing knives to replace the ones he'd lost in battle, after testing them out on one of the targets in the armory's make-shift firing range. I watched one of the jet-black blades plunge to the hilt in the forehead of a firing dummy, even though William seemed to throw it with only a flick of the wrist.

"Blade core's a depleted Uranium/lead alloy, and the outer blade is a sheathe of pure titanium," explained Huxley Ann. "They'll never lose an edge, and they're so dense they go through damn near anything."

Old Uncle Mike chose a pair of stun batons, as there were no tonfa or nunchaku to be found. "Here's hoping I don't bash myself with these things," he said after touching one and getting a nasty zap.

I was amazed to find a bo staff amongst the weaponry, and even more amazed to discover that it telescoped into something small enough to easily be concealed in a pocket. I couldn't help but feel like a Ranger armed with a Minbari Fighting Pike as I practiced drawing and concealing the weapon. William and I had watched Dad's old DVDs of that sci-fi show a lot growing up. He'd always been fondest of G'Kar and the Narns, but the Rangers were my favorites. The cold metal had a textured grip, but I had long ago grown used to the feeling of cloth-wrapped wood between my fingers, so the bo was difficult to grip and use effectively for a while. After a few minutes of practice, though, I felt satisfied that I wouldn't drop it or hurt myself with the weapon when the fighting started. Whether or not that would be enough to keep me alive, well…time would only tell.

Having assembled all our necessary gear, Huxley Ann took us back to her soldiers, and Endrame gathered his powers and tore open a whole through time and space.

I learned the meanings of the phrases "smooth as silk" and "quick as lightning" that night. The teenage uncles who weren't really my uncles and Grandfather Splinter slaughtered the perimeter guards without arousing any suspicion at all. A turtle or rat-shaped shadow would appear behind a patrolling human or mammalian mutant, and the patrolling guard would crumple and the shadow behind it would vanish before the body hit the ground. The intrusion expert entered the building's security system with equal ease and disabled it. Saber Khan wouldn't know what hit him.

Huxley Ann divided us up into three teams. Half the family went with First Squad, and the other half went with Second Squad. Third and Fourth Squads split off and headed for the lower levels with orders to plant charges on every support pillar and power generator, and to kill anyone that got in their way. We were equally indiscriminate with the lives of Saber Khan's minions. I had yet to kill anyone with my own hands, nor do I think my not-really father participated in the killing, but I witnessed plenty, and the real battle hadn't even started yet.

We advanced through the corridors cautiously but quickly. Two of us served as point spotters, to quickly silence lone individuals. Two more acted as rearguard, and the rest remained safely ensconced within the squads. We hid the corpses as best we could as we moved forward, towards Saber Khan's lair.

Soon enough, however, our presence became known and resistance stiffened. We no longer found isolated henchmen and ninjas wandering the corridors aimlessly. They came at us in groups, organized and armed, and from every possible direction. Our rearguard and point spotters fell back behind Huxley Ann's troopers, to give them clear fields of fire fore and aft. Most attackers were cut down by automatic weapons fire before they could even close with us, but a few managed to throw shuriken down the corridor at us or fire their crossbows before they died. One of Huxley Ann's soldiers took a quarrel through the throat and died in a pool of his own blood, and Old Uncle Mike got a nasty slash across the forehead from a shuriken that he didn't quite duck in time.

It took us roughly an hour to fight through the halls and corridors of Saber Khan's fortress and reach a room that I found familiar: the antechamber to Khan's inner sanctum.

Huxley Ann detached three of her soldiers to hold the door, while the rest of us prepared for the final battle. Soldiers slipped shotgun shells into empty chambers, or swapped out clips in their automatic weapons, and made sure they had at least one grenade close at hand. We paired off into fighting teams—William and I were one, old Uncle Mike and young Uncle Mike another, Uncle Leonardo and not-our-father-Donatello a third team, while Grandfather Splinter replaced Julian as Romea's partner.

A fire team moved into position by the door and waited for Huxley Ann's signal. She nodded, and one man keyed the door's opening sequence in. His fellows covered the opening door with their weapons. I braced myself for the inevitable shout of, "Contact!" and the chatter of machine guns and was amazed by the silence that followed instead. I heard a strange, soft whine as a beam of brilliant blue energy lanced down from the room's upper level. The soldier who had taken point dropped without a sound as the energy beam burned a perfectly circular hole through his skull, right between his eyes. He was dead before he hit the ground. We scattered as all hell broke loose.

Saber Khan and his mutant elites poured into the room as the sniper on the upper level continued to fire his particle beam weapon. That weapon claimed three more soldiers before enough suppressing fire forced the sniper to duck for cover and switch positions. That still left Saber Khan and eleven of those tiger mutants that had fought Julian, Romea, Catholicism and Judaism. They were small yet huge at the same time, very fierce looking.

William and I zeroed in on Saber Khan. The malevolent psychopath and the largest of his tigers were already engaged with past uncle Leonardo and not-quite Father. To my dismay, uncle Leonardo was having a tough time against the tiger mutant, and the father that wasn't really ours could barely defend himself against the massive swings of Saber Khan's war sword.

Suddenly a pair of tiger mutants rose to block our path. Just as suddenly one of William's throwing knives sprouted from the lead tiger's forehead, and the other tiger's head exploded as Huxley Ann appeared out of nowhere to pump a shotgun blast into its temple. "Go get that fucker!" she shouted, pointing at Saber Khan, as she threw herself back into the thick of the fighting, shotgun blazing.

I think Huxley Ann is my new favorite cousin.

The tide of battle swept us towards old Uncle Michelangelo and his naginata-armed foe. Like everyone else, he was having a tough time of it, unable to close and barely able to dodge the tiger's skillfully aimed strikes. I couldn't see where young Uncle Michelangelo had gotten to, and I hoped he was still alive. Then the sniper opened fire again. Whether by chance or by design, the particle beams didn't kill old Uncle Michelangelo. The first one burned through his foot, the second through his knee. He went down screaming and the tiger raised his naginata for a killing stroke. Another of William's knives flew through the air and buried itself in the base of the tiger's skull. Spine severed, it collapsed and died as the naginata fell harmlessly to the floor. Young Uncle Michelangelo appeared suddenly, trading blows with the nunchaku-armed tiger that he was fighting. He tripped over old Uncle Michelangelo, and that saved his life as the sniper's particle beam split the air where his head had been. The other tiger mutant collapsed, glassy eyed, a smoking hole where its Adam's apple should have been. More suppressing fire rose from the soldiers, and the sniper vanished behind cover once again.

Momentum shifted, and it seemed like we were going to win. Four of Khan's tiger-mutants lay dead, and the rest were heavily engaged, though Huxley Ann's soldiers had paid dearly for the victories. Of the dozen we had gone in with, only four remained, including Huxley Ann. The soldiers had taken position behind what little cover the room had to offer, taking potshots at targets of opportunity and keeping an eye out for that damned sniper.

William and I continued through the melee, closing with Saber Khan. Both Uncle Leonardo and our not-Father were bleeding from a dozen wounds, though Khan and his tiger chieftain weren't doing much better. A slash across the face had cost the tiger chieftain an eye, and blood flowed freely down his now-useless left arm from a hole near the shoulder joint. Khan's muzzle bled heavily, and when he snarled at almost father, I could see teeth missing from his bloodied mouth. He swung his sword one-handed now, a blow from the bo staff having shattered his other hand.

Grandfather Splinter and Romea appeared, driving a pair of tigers before them and separating us once again from Saber Khan. In the split second they obscured our view, things took a turn for the worse. I heard that familiar whine as the sniper opened fire, and then our-not-father Donatello staggered backwards and fell, smoke rising from a whole in his chest.

Uncle Leonardo screamed, which certainly make sense given that this particular Donatello had been more his brother than our father. The distraction was enough for the tiger chieftain to gain the upper hand and knock him to the floor cold.

The scream inside me took a moment longer to come out. After all, this Donatello wasn't actually anything to us at all; really, at this point we'd only just met. He's not our father, just another separate entity whose death doesn't affect the outcome of me or William being here.

But-

Then something inside me snapped. I don't know what, or even understand why, but seeing any Donatello die again drove me into a berserker rage I've never felt before, or since. William says I screamed like some predatory animal as I charged Saber Khan and the tiger chieftain. Maybe I did; I don't really remember. Most of the battle from that point on is a red haze in my mind.

William tells me I met the tiger chieftain first, and confronted him with a savagery he'd only ever associated with tales about Uncle Raphael from the old days and preventing him from dealing the death blow to past uncle Leonardo. I apparently disarmed the chieftain by shattering both arms before I killed him by cracking his skull open with my titanium staff. Khan and I dueled then, sparks flying from our clashing weapons. William says we struck with such speed and ferocity that he could barely follow our movements. He cut me, deeply, while I broke ribs and shattered teeth. And then, as suddenly as it came, the battle fury left me. I staggered from the sudden shock of pain and blood loss, and my guard faltered. I lifted the staff to parry, and did it so sloppily that the force of impact shattered my wrist. As the bo clattered to the floor and tried to back away, too weak to even cry out from pain.

Saber Khan licked his bloody lips and grinned at me, the feral grin of a predator, as he stepped closer to deliver the finishing blow. He raised his blade in a mocking knight's salute before lifting it high over his head.

"You'd think that after killing your father twice, and then you, that I'd have some sense of satisfaction. But you turtles named Donatello just die too damned easily," he snarled. Then he was flying forward, propelled from some force that hit him in the back, his eyes and mouth opening in wide O's of surprise. That's when I blacked out.

I regained consciousness to find the battle over and Saber Khan's corpse crushing me to the floor. I struggled to free my good arm and fought to keep from blacking out again from the pain of my injuries. Once my arm was free, I waved it feebly in the hopes of attracting attention. I hoped one of Huxley Ann's soldiers would see me, or that William would, but I was half-afraid that the sniper would put a hole through my head and do what his master had failed to. You can't imagine my relief when William's face appeared over Khan's furry shoulder.

"Donatello", he awknowledged gratefully, "We did it."

"We did?", I asked wearily.

Second squad and the rest of the family had arrived in the final moments of the battle to put down Saber Khan's remaining tiger elites, I learned. Huxley Ann was the only survivor from first squad. Amazingly, somehow, all my remaining relations had survived this fight. I was amazed to learn that past uncle Leonardo was still alive.

They hauled Saber Khan's corpse off of me and then hauled me to my feet. My head swam and I felt like I was about to keel over again, but William caught me and draped one arm over his shoulders and helped me stand. I asked him to turn me around, so I could see Saber Khan, and he did. All eight of William's strange throwing knives stood in Khan's back, buried up to and, in some cases past, their hilts. I saw no other wounds, and looked in amazement at William. I did some quick and rough calculations in my head, and the velocity those knives had to achieve to throw Saber Khan into me…well, the numbers said it was simply physically impossible for any human or mutant to throw any knife that fast.

Third and fourth squads rejoined us shortly after the medic had finished tending to the wounded. Both were short three men, and another five were wounded in one way or another. The medic exhausted the last of his supplies treating their injuries.

Wearily, Endrame gathered his powers again, and we found ourselves on the lawn behind our house, but apparently we had moved forward in time as well, according to the sun. I wondered what this did to our bodies. Huxley Ann called over the soldier with the remote detonator for the charges and took it from him. She stabbed the command key savagely with her thumb, and a ball of fire rose on the horizon. The shock wave was enough to knock almost everyone off balance, and a few of us (myself included) were knocked to the ground, we were so weak from our injuries.

"It is finished," Grandfather Splinter declared, with more than a hint of sadness as he was just begining to grieve for thier Donatello. At least William and I had already been through it once before.

I felt another impulse to hold William's hand, and this time I acted on it. Somehow this started a chain, and before I knew it we were all linked together, in the strangest family reunion ever.

TBC by Romea...


	29. Romea III

The Sage of the Next Generation - Romea III

By: Red Turtle

Epilogue:

_Freaked the Foots, Mangled the Mousers and totaled the Technodrome. That's .. Turtle Power! But, what about the Shredder and Krang ...? Burned to toast ? Vaporized to milkshake ? Or..escaped to dimension X ? Until we know, none of us can sleep safely in our beds.. Er, shells!_

…Wait…that's the legendary Epilogue from the Arcade Game…

Okay, for real now.

This is for my ninjas.

Romea:

This was it. The final good-bye.

Every day for three months I've come here to say good-bye, even though I was going to be back the next morning.

But now I'm leaving for good. College in France. Music scholarship.

The graves aren't the only thing I'm saying good-bye too. My living relatives are heartbroken that I made this decision so soon after our epic battle. Especially Julian, who failed both French and Music, and has no hope of accompanying me. He's just attending a community college with our twin cousins and Christopher. Christopher wanted us to all be together, but…I don't want that. Christopher is now the patriarch of the family, but as much as I love Christopher he doesn't hold the same weight as our parents did in making me do stuff I don't want to do. Besides I need to do as much living in my short life as I can to make up for our loss family members.

I'm not the only one to leave. Our real-time uncle Mike joined the future army with our cousin Huxley Anne. I think he'll defiantly do better in there, since beer-production didn't seem to be a big focus of that society. Surprisingly Judaism and Catholicism joined him for some family bonding. I actually miss them, and I only knew them…maybe a day. I would have liked having Catholicism around, as both an adult female and a non-turtle (she seemed more bird than turtle).

Endrame took care of our other younger cousin Shiitake, who knows if we'll ever see them again. Donatello and William showed no real interest in being with their last brother, but they never really bonded with Chicken or Pie either.

The original-era version of our family was returned to their own time, minus original Donatello whose body was cremated here. I don't know the full reasons for that, but myself I would have found it too weird to bury him here in this time. At least we all got to attend the funeral, and Grandfather Splinter said we all gave the most beautiful speeches and songs. Well…we did have some practice from the first funeral.

Many more relations came in for the other funerals, which we held all in one day. My mother's mother and two sisters, whom I had never met, Michelob's mother, Donatello and William's mother, Chicken and Pie's Mother, Tatiana's brother, we even included Master Sheno in this, since he had been tied to our genocide, and his family also came. I didn't know he had a son, a cute son that I would have flirted with if we weren't at a mass funeral. I was also a little resentful that all these female role models only show up at funerals. Maybe if they were around a little more for the living part we wouldn't have as many funerals. But that's not really fair to them, they have there own lives to lead just like I do.

As with our Donatello's first funeral, we received many gifts and condolences from around the world, far-reached acquaintances of all our parents. Most of these we actually gave to Splinter, although I guess it must be weird for those versions of our parents who are still alive. He really appreciated them though, for he mourned for the versions he had never met as extensions of his own sons. I suppose they'll get passed down through their own family in their time stream which will be…weird.

Knowing that I won't be back here again for probably years, if ever, I take the time to mourn each grave individually, instead of the group mourn I usually do. The loss of my parents hadn't affected me as deeply as one would think, the last couple years they hadn't been around, and I had already gone through a significant mourning when they first announced those plans. It is Rowdy that I truly miss, that I regret not having done more with, that I still cry over if I start to think of him and what he might have accomplished in a few years. Sometimes I replay the whole fight with Saber Khan and his army in my head, but this time Rowdy is thirteen or fourteen and just kicks everyone's ass. I drew a crude representation of this vivid fantasy it in my journal, so that he might accompany me in my travels, wherever they take me.

Wherever they take me…

The End

(bows)

only took me aboutthree years…

Won most complex plot in 2003


End file.
